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#which makes sense cause it was not only by far the shortest level
love-fireflysong · 1 year
Text
Welp, finally got to play Until Dawn: Rush of Blood last night, and honesty guys? It was such a fun game holy shit. Only took me a little over 2 hours to beat the game, and I totally would have started over and hunted for my missing trophies (cause I have a problem lol) and ‘skittles’ if it wasn’t for the fact that I can only use the vr headset for ~3 hours before it gives me a headache 😢
As expected though, game was chock full of all sorts of ud easter eggs and every time I entered an area of a level and recognized exactly where in the game I was supposed to be or I recognized character models that were being reused I got super giggly. Like you wouldn’t believe the amount of times I blew kisses when ever the psycho entered the scene to try and scare/terrorize me...even when Psycho!Josh was being a complete dick and kept killing me like ten times with his stupid axe as all those Matt’s in clown masks kept throwing molotovs at me lol.
Speaking of Josh, you even kinda sorta play as him maybe? Cause when I looked down to see if I even had a body or if I was just a pair of floating arms with guns, I was 100% wearing Josh’s overalls. Which is interesting, cause during the moments after levels when I’m sitting in a chair in the sanitorium I don’t have a body at all so they really didn’t need to go through all that work imo.
And obviously, they reused character models as previously hinted at by clown mask wearing Matt’s throwing molotov cocktails at me. Got to see all the boys in fact! Whether they were Chris, Cabin!Mike, Sanitorium!Mike, Matt, Regular!Josh, Psycho!Josh, and even Fiddler hilariously enough, they just coming at me in all forms. From wearing clown or pig masks to just being plain ass zombies, they were intent on killing me let me tell you. Sadly, though none of the girls made an appearance 😔 (which is a shame cause I totally think would have loved multiple Ashley’s in a clown mask of her own trying to stab me with scissors, it’s what she would have deserved imo) They didn’t even make little cameo’s as body’s on hooks in the mines like the rest of the guys did for some reason. Closest I got to seeing any of the girls was in the second level, and that’s just because a portion of it has all the doll’s that Josh set up in the dollhouse so I kept seeing their respective dolls over and over again.
The only girls that made any sort of appearance were Hannah and Beth (mostly Hannah obvs lol), and that was mostly for jump scare and horror reasons due to being dead and all. Though for some reason Hannah was wearing a bow in her hair?
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(Like don’t get me wrong, even being totally dead and decaying she is rocking that hair bow let’s be real. It’s just such an odd choice, and I have no idea why they felt the need to add that to the character model?)
But seriously, if any of you ever have a chance to play this, I really REALLY suggest you give it a go. It’s a super short game but was so fucking fun oh my god.
Cannot wait to give it another run through tonight!
#until dawn#rush of blood#and if for some reason any of you happen to be visiting my area of the world i WILL be forcing you to at least try a level or two lol#the demo of it i played back in august when i was staying at my sisters was just the second level by the way#which makes sense cause it was not only by far the shortest level#but the first level itself if half a shooting tutorial in a carnival before some minor parts in the lodge#whereas the second is basement saw rooms dolls everywhere and lots of pigs#so huge amounts of ud call backs and easter eggs#reason the first half of the first level takes place in a carnival though is because the guy that 'accompanies' you#is larry fessenden as a carny lol#so becomes more and more bloody and unhinged as you go on so that was fun#felt bad every time i got a new highscore though cause i kept knocking ashley off the leader board#im sorry baby please dont hate me 😭#only reason you had scores that low anyways was because you were too scared and jumpy to play properly#absolutely would have creamed everyone else otherwise lol#that being said i do not accept josh having the second highest score#boy is absolutely dogshit at video games and i can not be convinced otherwise sdjfjsdhfhsd#though i will accept the fact that emily got the fourth highest into my headcannon#girl is insane at shooters but would die before letting absolutely anyone else find that out lmao#though bob washington not only being included on that list but getting the coveted first spot#is frankly both hilarious and the weirdest inclusion they could have chosen ajkdhakjhsd
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verycharismaticdragon · 4 months
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Do you know why everyone and their mother keeps saying that Sheb Qingqiu's secluded cultivation lasts for a year or 3??? Last I checked, wasn't he only in the cave for several months??
...I haven't seen a fic use that timeframe in quite a while - am I the delusional one??
Having intensively cultivated for several months, he could freely control his spiritual energy and had risen one level above his original cultivation base.
... nope, still as I remembered from the official book, page 85 in my copy. Even my old Exiled Rebels translation puts it as, "several months." Last I checked, 12 (or 36) months is far too many to simply be considered "several", so what am I missing? It just- throws off the timeline so badly and greatly increases the amount of time poor Binghe is stuck in the woodshed, for what?
Okay, so the 3 years thing comes from the donghua, no need to look further. It's one of those things that directly go against canon but have stuck in people's minds, similar to 'the washerwoman was the one to pull baby Binghe out of the river' and 'Shen Qingqiu fainted dramatically several times early on in his transmigration'.
Then, I don't believe I have seen 1 year myself, but if I had to guess, it may come from the fact that Binghe is 14yo prior to SQQ entering seclusion and 15 once he leaves. That said, an entire year makes zero sense considering what we know of the timeline.
Which is where I confess that I tore out some hair over the length of SQQ's seclusion when constructing the timeline for Transmigrator Time Traveler, because for me 'several' months means 3 to 5, but given all the facts, SQQ's seclusion had to last somewhere between 6 and 10 instead. (I went with 9 in the end, for the fic, cause I've read that 9 is a significant number for spiritual practices cultivation is based on? the source was a little vague so i don't know how true that is, but I needed a number.)
Nevermind, to the aforementioned facts. MXTX confirmed the date of the first chapter publication - Sept.21 - to be the date of SQQ's transmigration. (Small note: I'll be using modern months, even though SV's world uses lunar calendar, because it's easier to gauge weather and stuff. For characters in the novel, they might see those as different months/seasons, but that doesn't really affect our purpose here.) Luo Binghe’s 15th birthday - which Shen Qingqiu missed in seclusion - is in winter ('coldest day' which I after some research came to hc as jan6, though that's not particularly relevant, because...) Demon invasion happened on a 'hot day' (SQQ mentions it in relation to how SHL is dressed) - which puts it in May at the earliest, August at the latest. So these are the 'borders' we are working with.
Now, to my actual calculations. We know SQQ spent some time on the Peak after transmigration, before the Skinner mission that led to him going to seclusion. So I'm gonna say that happened in October at the earliest, December if you stretch it (though I feel like his tatas would freeze off if the Skinner left him half-undressed in December...) - but definitely not later, cause Binghe’s birthday has to happen off-screen. So if we take the longest possible time frame, October to August, we get 10 months. The slimmest possible window - December to May - gives us 5 months, but between the aforementioned boob hypothermia issue and the fact that May is a bit of a stretch for the 'hot day', I think that 6 months is the shortest you can go.
Which, again, doesn't align with my understanding of what should be described as 'several' months, but what can you do... tbh, im not sure MXTX thought all that hard about the timeline, which is understandable as a writer - but as a fan, frustrating
So yeah - definitely less than a year (and absolutely not 3, donghua), though the math gets fuzzier after that.
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allbondclean · 1 year
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messrmoonyy · 3 years
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number 3 from the physical touch list (hiding face in neck) for remadora please :)) (no pressure)
Not me neglecting previous prompts/requests because this one the one I got motivation for.
Prompt from this list.
I used this to do my spin on the aftermath of the Battle of the Seven Potters, Cause I like anxious overprotective Remus🙃😗✌🏻( I also changed like. The entire dialogue from the original scenes because why not ). Think battle of seven potters but add a little ✨spice and drama✨. I went off on a total tangent on this tbh. As I do with every prompt it seems. Anyway. Hope you like it my dear anon.
Pairing: Remus lupin x Nymphadora Tonks
Warnings: none
Check my masterlist for all my other writing!
She was late. Incredibly so. Her and Ron should have been one of the first pairs to arrive at The Burrow, he’d arranged for her to have one of the shortest routes. He’d not told her that of course but he was quite sure she’d known he’d gotten a little too tetchy and secretly spoken to Alastor. But he had a right to be over protective didn’t he? This was was his wife. The woman he had literally, and in every sense of the word, sworn his life to. Sworn his dying breath to protect her, care for her.
Yet he’d let her put herself in danger. He could have tried to persuade Alastor to let him and George go the same route as Dora and Ron, or at least in the similar direction. He knew he had to be focussed on the war effort, knew he had a duty to protect the children. But… he also had a duty to protect her. His wife. His Dora. And now for all he knew Bellatrix could have struck her down, her body lying lifeless in a field somewhere.
He wasn’t a particular calm man at the best of times, his stress had its own stress, but he had never felt worse than he did in that moment. He’d already practically attacked Harry, was in no way of any comfort to George and Molly. Or anyone else.
So he was waiting out of the way by the window, constantly looking up at the sky through the glass and waiting for her to materialise through the burrows guards, come skidding over and laugh at him for being anxious over nothing. But the sky remained clear of her vibrant hair and her joyful laugh. The stars practically mocking him as he waited.
“ she’s a tough one. She’ll be okay “ Kingsley had appeared at his side “ Bill and Fleur, Ron and Tonks. They’ll all be here soon. Stop fretting Remus “ Remus almost laughed at the sheer stupidity of telling him not to fret over her. As if he ever did anything else. He always worried for her safety, had done long before they had even become a couple. Waiting up for her to come home from late shifts at the ministry in the days she’d stay at Grimmauld, worrying about her when she’d turn up with a new bruise or gash from something. Marrying her had simply made him fret more.
He’d never felt so protective of anyone in his life, never thinking he ever would either. Yet here he was, constantly putting her first and wanting to do nothing but take care of her. She never left his mind, was his first priority forever and always. He didn’t even want to think about what he’d do if he ever lost her, if he ever failed to protect her.
“ Bill and Fleur were scheduled to arrive as one of the last. Dora and Ron should have been one of the first pairs here “ he said it slightly more harshly than intended and turned to apologise to his friend immediately after, but as he did there was the sound of something passing through the guards outside.
Remus charged outside, almost tripping over his own gangly limbs as he went. He froze to the spot in a mixture of shock and relief as Doras broom appeared in the sky, the bristles smoking and charred as she made an unsteady decent to the ground. She landed in a long skid,stumbling from the broom and directly into Remus’ arms. She practically fell into him and would have knocked him to the floor if he hadn’t been stiff as a board.
“ Remus “ she gasped, hugging him so tightly it took the air from his lungs. But he didn’t even care, he’d give his last breath if it meant dying with her there in his arms. Because she was alright. She was right. There “ was so worried about you. The death eaters and- fuck I know you’re really no good on a broom and you bloody hate flying at the best of times. Merlins balls I was so scared “ she rambled so fast Remus barely understood what she was saying to him.
His hand slipped into her hair in some attempt to hold her as close as he could, still trying to accept that she was really there. Safe. Alive. He had worried for nothing of course. He should have known. She was tough. So much tougher than he gave her credit for it seemed.
He gently pried her out of his grip slightly, needing to see her face just to make sure it really was her. That he wasn’t dreaming it.
“ where were you “ as had most of his words that evening, it came out a little harsh but she didn’t seem to care. She reached up to cup his face in a soothing manner that was the complete opposite of his previous words to her.
“ Bellatrix. Wants me dead just about as much as Voldy wants Harry. Missed our port key. But I’m fine. Ron’s fine. We’re fine. You’re fine? “ he could feel tears welling in his eyes and he felt a bit stupid, but he couldn’t help it. Words failed him and he simply just nodded and pulled her back into his arms “ fucking deatheaters “ she grumbled.
He pressed his face into the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent and letting it calm him. She smelt like the fresh air, her hair all wind tousled and the slightest hint of smoke. Probably from her charred broom. Her hand rubbed gentle circles into his back and it made him feel… small. Which was funny with how much smaller she actually was compared to him.
“ sweetheart… I’m fine “ she said softly, clearly reading his fear still evident on him “ Remus “
He lifted his head as her hand patted him lightly, but he couldn’t bare to part from her again just yet and his forehead dropped to hers.
“ I’m afraid I underestimated you once again, darling. I knew deep down you’d make it back to me, I’m getting far too old to be worrying like this “ he said with a hint of a smile.
“ oh don’t worry, you won’t get rid of me that easily. Take more than a few of old Voldys mental lackeys to take me out. You’re stuck with me now. Im going no where “ their faces were so close he could feel her cheeks shift as she smiled with her words. Her nose brushed against his before she pressed a kiss to his lips. He usually was rather strict on his avoidance of showing affection to his wife in front of well… anyone really. But he happily kissed her back, even if he did cut it off a little shorter than he truly wanted. Still wondering at the back of his mind if any of the order were secretly judging him. It’d never escape him no matter how hard he tried not to care about it.
As they pulled apart she then only seemed to notice that there was blood on his hands and his jacket. She took a step back, her hands suddenly searching for an injury.
" blood? Remus? " her hands were frantic as she yanked at his collar, pushed up his sleeves, searching for anywhere she could find an injury. He grabbed ahold of her hands and shook her slightly so that she would look at him, it was clearly her time to fret and not his.
" Dora. Dora relax. It's not mine. It's not my blood. George was hit.. don't worry he's alive. He's lost an ear but he's okay. So am I. Not my blood love, it's not mine " she couldn't seem to help herself then and dived for lips again, holding his face in her hands and kissing him harder than before. He still couldn’t help but be a little reluctant but kissed her back, his embarrassment of kissing her in front of others not mattering when they were both just thankful to be alive and with each other.
" I'm just so happy you're alive " she whispered when she pulled back, resting her forehead to his. He opened his mouth to say something else but suddenly she was yanked out of Remus' embrace and shoved away, her clumsy legs stumbling in the gravel and she fell quite ungraciously onto her ass with a grunt of pain. Remus immediately rushed to her side in confusion.
" what the fuck! " she shouted and Remus looked up to see that Kingsley had been the one to pull her away, his wand now pointed at her face.
" Kingsley! Lower your wand! " Remus immediately jumped to her defence, crouching beside her and placing a hand to her shoulder  " Dora are you okay? Dora? "
" someone betrayed us we have to check everyone. You didn't even confirm her identity Lupin, she could have killed you. Look I didn’t mean to knock you down- we have to be certain you understand? "
" are you bloody mental?! " Dora yelled again, rubbing at her elbow that she’d clearly hurt on the way down.
" Kingsley... lower your wand she got Ron back safetly it's quite clearly- "
" we have to check " Kingsley said cutting off Molly, who had come outside with the commotion. Remus helped her back to her feet and then grabbed her hand, stepping in between her and kingsleys raised wand.
" lower. Your. wand. " his voice was commanding as he could muster, Kingsley was his friend. But Dora was his wife. And she came first. And he would put himself between her and a raised wand any and every time. No matter who was on the other end of it.
" Nymphadora Tonks gave me a present for my birthday last year. What was it?" Kingsley asked, ignoring Remus entirely, his wand still pointed at her as she was half hid behind Remus’ body.
" this is ridiculous! We're all turning on each other now? "
" answer the question " Kingsley ignored Remus again, which only made his blood boil more. He was already on edge that evening with the fear of losing his wife. This wasn’t helping to lower his stress levels.
" I know my own damned wife- "
" what was it! " Remus drew his own wand then at the increase in Kingsleys anger, pointing it in Kingsleys direction.
" Remus! "
" lower. Your wand. And step away from my wife " he demanded, not wanting to hurt Kingsley… but willing to if he had to.
" you don't even know if that is your wife"
" please! Stop the both of you! " Molly shouted.
" fucking hell " Dora said and held onto Remus hand harder, stepping better into view " I gave you a new set of quills because I charmed your last lot to throw them self out the window whenever you touched them. Happy? " Kingsley was quiet for a moment longer " now drop your wands. Both of you " Kingsley looked to Remus before finally lowering his wand. But Remus couldn’t. He felt betrayed almost, that someone he thought as a friend would do something like threaten the woman he loved.
Dora pressed gently on Remus' wrist to make him too lower his wand when he didn’t do it if his accord immediately " Remus. Lower your wand...Remus “
" this is exactly what Voldemort would want. To see us all turning on each other. We cannot let ourselves get paranoid like this " Remus said bitterly, wrapping an arm around his wife protectively and finally dropping his wand arm. He knew that Kingsley has been right to check in a way. He had needed to check. Though there were much better ways to go about it rather than pointing a wand at her head. To hold a wand to a witch or wizard was one of the most disrespectful things you could do.
" someone betrayed us "
" Dora and I are never out of each other's sight long enough for anyone to have made a switch or have her as their spy. And you know that. How dare you hold a wand to her head. How dare you " Remus was itching for an argument. And Dora could sense it, also so incredibly good at reading his emotions and thoughts before even he was.
" Remus " she said softly, lifting a hand to gently turn his face to look at her instead of glaring at Kingsley " Remus look at me " she ran her hand gently through his hair and he instantly seemed to relax. His own muscles losing tension without his consent at her touch. She had a knack at being one of the only people to get him to the calm down in almost an instant. Sirius and James had been the only other people he knew that could " relax. It's okay " she transported them into their own little bubble. As if the others were no longer in the burrow too and she kept him there, gently rubbing at his hand until his first unclenched and angry breaths returned to normal.
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hyenahunt · 3 years
Text
Conquest: The Fool’s Fruit - 4
Writer: Akira
Season: Spring
Proofreading: royalquintet (JP & ENG)
Translation: hyenahunt & haranami
Nagisa: …Eden has no need for you. You no longer have the right to even sit by our side.
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[Location: CosPro Office]
Ibara: Good morning, fellow members of CosPro! Your vice president, Ibara Saegusa, is reporting for duty! Salute~☆
Jun: Heya, 'sup. Thanks for all your hard work this morning.
Ibara: Ah, please don’t stop working on my account! I apologize for disturbing you!
All we young people are good for is having too much energy! We’re still at the age when everything excites us, I suppose you could say?
But more importantly, I’ve brought refreshments!
It appears that we’ll be at the mercy of the midsummer heat today, so I’ve brought along some samples from the ice cream shop I manage—
Jun: Ibara, Ibara—
Ibara: Yes? This isn’t like you, Jun; you’ve repressed practically all your individuality aside from your strange level of politeness. Could you kindly refrain from interrupting my business greeting?
Jun: Business greeting? You literally just dissed me outta nowhere.
...More importantly, take a look at that.
Ibara: Hm? What do you mean by “that”?
W-What?!
Nagisa: ......
Hiyori: ......
Ibara: (whispering) H-Huh? That’s rather odd. His Excellency aside, why is His Highness here?
Jun: (whispering) Don't ask me. I'm not Ohii-san's manager or anything.
Ibara: (whispering) Hmm… I felt that the most effective way to deal with this Conquest issue was to take down His Highness Hiyori.
(whispering) And thus, I had planned on having a strategy meeting with the rest of Eden, excluding him—
So I certainly didn’t expect him to be here! What should we do? Jun! I’ll court-martial you for leaking confidential information!
Jun: (whispering) Goddamn, why're you making it sound like I'm the one who leaked it to him~?
Nagisa: …What have the two of you been whispering about? You’re getting along well, I see?
Ibara: Indeed, Your Excellency! We’re simply two peas in a pod! Why, from the moment I laid my eyes on Jun, I was certain that we’d be the closest of friends—
(whispering in Nagisa’s ear) …Why is His Highness here, pray tell? Did you bring him with you, Your Excellency? You’re throwing a wrench in my plans.
Nagisa: …Yes. It’d seem like we were leaving Hiyori-kun out otherwise, and that’s not very nice.
Ibara: As expected of His Excellency! In contrast to the solemnity he exudes, he’s as benevolent as a cherubic young child!
But at the moment, he’s something of a pain in the ass! Indeed, I wish I could pull his tongue out before he makes any more sound arguments!
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Jun: Wouldja please chill out a little, Ibara? You're practically spitting venom right now, y'know~
...We can't do anything 'bout the fact that Ohii-san's here, and it's not like we can just kick his ass out, yeah?
Hiyori: ......
Jun: (Well, Ohii-san looks like he's in an awful mood as always. He didn't even say hi or look this way...)
(What're we supposed to do about this? Just knowing we were gonna have a meeting behind his back would probably piss him off even more, wouldn't it?)
Nagisa: …Hm. Well, it’s fine. Just sit.
Ibara: Er, but... What am I to do?
Nagisa: …Sit. Must I order you to?
Ibara: ... (They both silently sit down)
Nagisa: …Good boys. Now, then, it appears that all the members of Eden have gathered; shall we begin?
Hiyori: Yes. Well, I don't know about Eden, but all members of both Eve and Adam are certainly present.
Jun: (That's how he's gonna start things off!? Savage!)
(Ohii-san, are you so upset about Eden forcing you to do Conquest — something you don't like — that you don't even wanna be in it?!)
Nagisa: …Right, then. Usually, Ibara is the one who facilitates our meetings. But he appears to be in poor shape today, so I’ll take his place.
…I am Eden’s leader both in name and in fact, after all.
Jun: (Woah, and now Nagi-senpai's calmly carrying on without even noticing he totally set him off!? Thanks to him, the mood's gotten tense as shit...!)
(Honestly, I wanna get outta here already~ Is this seriously any time to be talking strategies!?)
Hiyori: Hmm? So you've finally remembered for once that you're the leader of this Eden thing?
You're normally the very model of a convenient little doll, puppeted about by that venomous snake over there, so I'd been wondering if you'd forgotten or just didn't even know, you know?
Nagisa: …I haven’t. I’m quite good at remembering things. Actually, I’m unable to forget anything unless I try my hardest to.
…And, as far as I remember, this is the first time anything like this has ever happened.
Hiyori: Ah, yes. That's right, isn't it? How pointless all this is!
Things are finally going smoothly, with all of us getting along and having fun, and you dare to try and force a wedge between us all — even if it's all just a game of make-believe!
Nagisa: …Who gave you permission to speak, Hiyori Tomoe?
Hiyori: ...!? Nagisa-kun, you'd address me in such a way!?
Nagisa: …Unlike me, it appears that the rest of you aren’t aware of your positions. It’s rather tiresome, but allow me to remind you once more.
…I’ve said this many times, but I — Nagisa Ran — am the leader of Eden. In other words, within the confines of Eden…
…I am God.
Hiyori: ......
Nagisa: …And no one is allowed to speak without God’s permission.
Jun: (whispering) Ibara, Ibara—? Why's Nagi-senpai acting like this? Is he only just now going through his cringe phase?
Ibara: (whispering) How should I know!? It’s true that His Excellency’s sense of self has been developing lately, though; this may actually be the perfect timing for him to go through such a phase…!
(whispering) But it’s also possible that some type of bug infiltrated the cheese we ate yesterday and is now consuming his brain cells, I suppose?!
Nagisa: …Fufu. It’s only natural that you’re feeling perplexed. Up until this moment, I’ve more or less followed your instructions without complaint.
…I believed in you. And I loved you. I had faith that there was no need for me to say anything, as you would guide me well.
…However, it appears that I was wrong.
…Therefore, I — the one who acts as God — must now use the authority I possess to make you move according to my wishes.
…I will reveal the path that we must take in order to overcome this calamity known as Conquest, which has shaken Eden to its core.
…I lament the fact that it must come to this. Could you not even give me the shortest moment of peace and tranquility?
…I’ve truly lost all hope in you.
Ibara: ......
Nagisa: …And that applies to you in particular, Hiyori Tomoe. I’m not merely disappointed in you — you’ve incurred my wrath, as well.
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Hiyori: Like I said, don't address me that way—
Nagisa: …With your own two hands, you cast away the honor that is serving God, abandoned your post, and caused our mighty rule to stagnate with your selfish actions.
…You have dishonored us, scorned our worth. And you have greatly displeased me.
…And, thus, you are not fit to be a member of Eden. There is no merit in allowing you to remain within this eternal kingdom overflowing with joy that I — God — govern.
Hiyori: ......
Nagisa: …I’ll put it simply. You’re all fools; it appears that you are unable to understand the words of God as they are.
Hiyori Tomoe. Eden’s Second-in-Command. O one-winged angel who presides over Eve.
…Should you continue to oppose the fate known as Conquest that awaits us, rejecting the commandment that you must follow…
…Eden has no need for you. You no longer have the right to even sit by our side.
Hiyori: ......
Nagisa: …If you do not cease in your hubris — if you choose to continue abandoning your professional duties and acting however you’d please…
…As God, I shall expel you from Eden for all eternity.
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sophi-s · 3 years
Text
After three days. Three freaking days.
It is finished.
A kiss to die for
By: sophi-s (me)
Words: 4,531
Franchise: Darksiders video games
Characters: Fallen!Astarte, Abaddon
Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence, blood and gore, near death experience, angst, necromancy, I changed the storyline just a tiny bit for the purposes of this, Abaddon gets his ass handed to him by his ex :P.
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Eden. The first gift from the Creator himself to the Humanity. A home for the First Ones. Once, an indescribably beautiful place full of grand trees and fresh, soft grass, flowing with cool, crystal clear waters. Colorful fruits growing in the trees, a delight to eye and tongue. Within, no danger could reach Humanity's ancestors. Truly a paradise the first humans rightfully called it. But now, after a great war that took place here, seemingly not that long ago, the great garden was left scarred and burning. Made into a tomb for those who sought to claim it. Bodies of Nephilim were left to burn and decay, forgotten and abandoned.
However, something has changed. A dark shadow passed over the sacred graveyard, leaving only madness and corruption in its wake. Those who perished picked themselves up from the ground and lashed out at Eden's guardians. Surprised and unable to respond with a coordinated defensive, the Faneguard had to call for retreat after their leader, Malahidael fell to the blades and arrows of the living dead. Amongst the scattered angels was the general of Heaven's Legions. Trying his best to keep his brethren focused and plan a tactical escape.
At least that's what he was trying before. Before he saw the cause of this nightmare. Now, outstretched on the ground in the dust, he forced himself up onto his elbow as he crawled towards his discarded blade, clutching at his chest that felt as though it had been caved in after a charging monstrosity trampled him in full speed.
How could this happen?
Fighting with his chaotic thoughts, he finally got a hold of the hilt but when he turned around, it was already too late. A large paw armed with razor-sharp claws landed on him, pinning him down and successfully immobilizing his lower half. And then his own blue eyes stared up into a pair of white ones, the same eyes that doomed him from the moment he met their gaze for the first time. The eyes that occupied his thoughts when he was awake and his dreams while he slept. Eyes of Astarte.
But what stood above him… this thing, this monster was Astarte no longer. From the waist up, the woman was stunningly beautiful as she always was, with her pale white eyes and long flowing, platinum blonde hair. But her legs have been replaced by a body of a feline beast with wings coated in blackness of corruption, feathers shimmering with red glyphs. A wicked smile was twisting her petal like lips and wherever her clawed paws fell, the dead bodies shivered and rose, called back into the accursed unlife. Utter insanity shone in her eyes.. Keeping his stone façade was no longer possible as inwardly he was falling apart. Astarte. The same Astarte who would kill and die for him, the same who he trusted more than anyone. The same Astarte he dared to love. Her smirk grew wider as she chuckled.
"Who do we have here? The great general of Heaven's Legions Abaddon himself!"
The unfamiliar taunting tone of her voice sent a shiver down his spine, as did the way she bared her teeth in a disturbing grin. Giving the large paw a tug to try and wriggle free, quickly realising it's pointless as the damned thing didn't even budge, Abaddon took a struggling breath, pretty sure his sternum was damaged if not broken.
"Astarte…"
His voice came out as a broken, pleading whisper. He still couldn't… or maybe he didn't want to… cope with what he was seeing clearly like on the palm of his hand. Astarte, his most formidable soldier, the strongest of them all, and the only woman in the Universe he felt something special for… Fallen into the vice-like grip of Lucifer's corrupting influence. Gone was the gentle smile that crawled its way up onto her face whenever she spotted him. Abaddon swallowed thickly when he noticed the spear in her hand poised to strike and carve his broken heart out from his chest. Astarte would never harm him…
"I was wondering when you'd show up."
She scoffed and used her other paw to press his right arm to the ground should he try to take a swipe at her. But they both knew far too well that he couldn't have, even if he wanted to. Astarte leaning over him was still the one his heart yearned for, still beautiful just… in a different, more horrifying way. Through the ringing in his ears after his head cracked against a rock, he could hear someone call out to him but whoever it was, they were successfully pushed back by the horde of undead Nephilim.
"Astarte, don't do it.."
He quietly begged, even though he never begs. Seeing her like this, twisted and bestial, did something to him he couldn't quite comprehend. Touched that part of his soul he didn't even know about. Strangely enough, even in her madness, Astarte must've sensed something in him that gave her a pause as she curiously tilted her head to one side. All the moments, even the shortest ones, he'd spent with Astarte in the past were flashing before his eyes. Every time they had one another's back in battle, every time one saved the other's life, every time they spoke about the things they would never tell anyone else whenever they were alone. And that memorable moment when they stood together, away from the prying eyes that moonlit night. Abaddon was listening to her as she asked him if what she feels is right, if there's any possible way he feels that way as well. He almost laughed at her obliviousness and the fact that his love was there before she even realised her own. Of course.. He took her hands in his and gazed into her eyes, absolutely mesmerized, waiting for permission to finally grant her the proof of his love and devotion, one which she silently gave him with a nod and a smile.
"I would walk through the fire of Nine Hells for you."
He said before leaning down to place a chaste kiss on her lips. A kiss, stolen kiss he was dying to receive. It was very brief but still felt like his first flight over the White City. Liberating, wonderful and equally as intoxicating. Those were the most beautiful memories he'd ever made but now they were like a parasite buried deeply into his brain, one that refused to leave his head, reminding him of better times and cackling maniacally at him as the present was coming undone before his very eyes. He wanted those memories to go. But there was no escape. Neither from them nor from Astarte herself.
"Look at me.."
"I am."
"Please, come to your senses. It's not you.. You need to fight it, I know you have it in you. Don't leave me like this… Don't you remember everything I'd done for you? Everything you'd done for me ?"
For a second, Astarte's grin fell, making place for a thoughtful expression and for this short second Abaddon dared to hope that there's still light in her. That he somehow managed to get to her. But all these hopes were taken away when she shook her head and looked at him… not with anger. It was pity, plain and simple as she spoke in a condescending tone.
"Fool. So loyal and righteous. Look around! The war had ended long ago, yet we remain stranded in this forsaken tomb! We've been abandoned and no one will set us free if we don't do so ourselves! Don't tell me you cannot see it."
He couldn't believe his ears. It wasn't the honorable and just angel he used to know. The Astarte he knew was gone. This was a twisted monster bearing the visage of his dearest, taunting him with her beauty that was always keeping his hand paralyzed whenever he tried to strike her even though his life depended from it.
"I have chosen my path, Abaddon. And you can walk it with me.."
Abaddon eyed her hand warily as she stretched it out to him, offering him help in standing up. He was torn. On the one hand, he so, so wanted to accept and be with Astarte as he used to. No one would take her from him ever again. But taking her hand would also mean slipping into the hateful darkness. Welcoming the sullying blackness inside and succumbing to madness. Straying from the light and forsaking his duty in favor of the same accursed power that destroyed her.
It was a dangerous thing, this love.. Pushing even the most reasonable people to do unthinkable and dangerous things in the name of it. More often than not at costs that rarely make it worth it. Lucifer knew this. And he used it as a weapon against Abaddon by turning Astarte. He knew not what the Dark Prince offered her but it must've been worth losing oneself. Astarte was now Lucifer's servant, not the love of Abaddon's eternal life. He couldn't… he couldn't end up like her. His already bleeding heart screamed out with anguish when he finally gathered himself to speak.. and refused.
"I… can't do this, Astarte. Not even for you…"
"That's a pity…"
Abaddon grunted in pain when the pressure on his wrist increased to the point when he could feel his bones beginning to crack. And then as suddenly as it appeared, the crushing weight was gone, both from his arm and his chest. But he wasn't free. His breath was abruptly cut off when Astarte's slender fingers, which often fiddled with his hair when he had a moment to lie down and rest after a hard day, looking up at her sitting beside his head, before all this, mercilessly curled around his throat and lifted him up to her eye level until his toes could no longer reach the ground. She was strong. Stronger than he remembered. His left hand grasped Astarte's wrist as he tried to struggle free while he raised his sword to attack. But… looking deep into her eyes, at her face, mouth curved in a poisonous sweet smile, the silken skin of her cheeks… His hand trembled. Once again he proved her and himself he doesn't have it in him to do this. Damn it all. This one, seemingly harmless emotion was what ultimately led him to his own doom. If he'd never fallen for Astarte he wouldn't be here, flapping his wings madly in an attempt to wriggle out of her hold. But he couldn't command his heart. It would not listen to him.. Abaddon couldn't simply stop loving Astarte. Her eyebrows furrowed in a gentle frown and he felt the tip of her gilded spear press insistently against his abdomen, right under his ribs. Cold sweat began to bead around his brow. Oh Creator…
"Fret not, love.."
Astarte purred, making him finally stop beating his wings and look her in the eye again only to see an unsettling spark in there. Despite the obvious danger, hearing her call him her "love" in this deceivingly sweet voice still made his racing heart skip a beat.
"It won't be long.. And when you die, you'll be forever at my side. Just as you desired."
As a monster, not unlike her. A living corpse that defiled the natural order by its existence itself. He didn't want to go like this. What an end it is for a general of Heaven? Killed by his own lieutenant and brought back to life as a shambling husk of what he used to be? Preposterous. Cold lump of fear settled into the pit of his stomach. He could only count seconds. One.. two… it didn't even come to three when the blade sunk deeply into his flesh, piercing the armor as though it wasn't even there in the first place and running him through. After all, the spear was created specifically to fight armored opponents… Abaddon wanted to scream out in pain but the wail of agony was cut short by the firm grasp on his throat that stopped the air escaping his lungs. Pain clouded his vision but did not silence his racing thoughts. He was weak. He couldn't strike Astarte down as his enemy, denying her the well deserved rest and falling to her blade like a fool he felt like. He struggled to breathe and keep his eyes opened when he felt Astarte loosen her ironclad grip on his neck and move her hand to his face, oh so gently pulling the strands of his hair, matted with sweat, to the side and behind his ear before placing the same hand on the back of his neck to keep his head still. He gasped for air through his opened mouth as blood was beginning to well up in his throat and dribble down his chin. And then Astarte unexpectedly leaned in and decisively captured his lips with her own, granting him the final kiss for a farewell.
Abaddon's eyes widened in fear and shock but even though the pain of the spear through his side, he found himself going slack in Astarte's arms. His ornate blade clattered to the ground when his fingers unfurled and let it slip out. No strength remained within him to even try and respond to Astarte's lips, even if he wanted to. But what he hoped to be his last comfort turned out to be nothing more than a cruel torment with how cold and meaningless the kiss felt. It was nothing like the one back in the White City. Hollow seconds ticked by. It tasted only of the blood flooding his tongue and the bitter defeat. No love, no passion and no feelings remained in her black heart. Only the empty void and tasteless ashes… Monster. Astarte no longer… She would never hurt him…
Astarte knew him and all of his weak spots all too well. She knew how and where to strike to make it hurt. And this last kiss was only a tool to her. There wasn't any physical pain anymore when she finally pulled away with his blood painting her lips in deep crimson and let his body slip down the spear to collapse onto the shriveled grass. The last thing Abaddon saw before numbing darkness swallowed him was Astarte delightedly licking his scarlet life essence on her mouth and teeth before she hummed contentedly
"Farewell, my love. I'll see you again soon enough…"
She stood close, gazing at the distant stars shimmering in the black sky.
"The night sure is beautiful."
"It is. Even more so with you around."
"Tsk. Sweet-talker…"
In the impenetrable black, Abaddon heard nothing, saw nothing and felt nothing aside from the dull ache within his chest. Betrayal… Every beat of his heart was a torture. He couldn't even tell if it was really beating or not anymore. It bled ceaselessly. Craving for the lost love. Crying out to Astarte as something started to tug at the strings of his very soul. Trying to pull him free from his still body that refused to move no matter how much he wished to stand or at least sit up. Memories were passing all too quickly through his head. Eyes shining with uncertainty, a relieved smile as he staggered upright with a pained grimace that was supposed to be a comforting smile..
" Are you certain everything is alright? For a moment there I was afraid you were gone.."
"Never, my light. I would never leave you."
He wasn't going to the Kingdom of the Dead, he was certain. Astarte would make sure of it.. Curse Lucifer.. curse this wretched feeling still coiled in his chest, like a festering plague. Warriors of Heaven are people of unbreakable steel. Calm and collected beings of logic. But when it comes to honest feelings, there's nothing in between. They either don't care or love to the death. And when they love and it all falls apart, their hearts break like no one else's. No, they don't even break… they shatter to a million pieces like a frozen flower. And even if they are ever put back together, they're never the same. Those scars run too deep to ever disappear. Curse everything… Soft hair he tangled his fingers in, a heartbeat right beside his… warm presence next to him and a misleadingly delicate cheek pressed to the skin on top of his chest..
"What happens now then?"
"Doesn't matter. As long as we stay together."
"We will, Abaddon…"
He tasted the copper tinge of blood again as Astarte's voice echoed in his head when she swore to him. When he believed her..
I  P R O M I S E .
Those two words… They meant a world to him. Even after he saw what Astarte had become… Abaddon desperately clung to those words like a drowning man holds onto the final breath until the very last second. And that was his downfall. She promised me…
The last memory of Astarte before all this chaos wormed its way into his mind. A less pleasant one. He could see there was something wrong with her back then. This was the first time they had a true falling out. Well.. can this really be called a falling out if it was just him being yelled at? Astarte was changed already. Something happened to her after the Nephilim slaughter. Something he had foolishly overlooked. Maybe he was just too preoccupied with his own grief? Blood tumbled down from her wound, painting both her and his armor in vibrant red from where a crude spear met her body… 
It didn't take long for the last of the Nephilim to fall when this happened. She held onto life tightly as he led her deeper into the garden where healers would take care of her. Abaddon waited outside the tent, pacing back and forth until Azrael, who'd been tending to Astarte himself, walked out. A slender hand fell onto his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks and making him look at his old friend bearing a sullen expression. He'd never been so terrified in his life like in this short moment when he waited for Azrael to inevitably tell him that it was too late to help her but he merely asked Abaddon to come with him inside. Somehow, it was even worse. He saw her sitting on the edge of a cot, face pale, lips pressed into a thin line, staring at nothing. Eyes of other angels were on the three of them as the two archangels walked in. It was a relief to see her alive but there was no doubt that something was wrong. The patches of fresh crimson staining her trousers on her inner thighs only confirmed his suspicions. And Azrael didn't keep him waiting for an explanation.
"She was with child.."
The news hit him like a slug to the face. With a sack of bricks no less. Astarte, his beloved, bearing his blood in her womb. By all means he should feel ecstatic. He should rejoice. But this one word, this tiny word filled him with absolute dread. Was.
"The blade went deep.. There was nothing I could do. I'm sorry."
Who knows how long he stood there like a wooden stake? There was nothing I could do. Azrael was inarguably the best healer in the White City. He knew what he was saying. And yet… Abaddon found it difficult to believe his words. A child. His child. Died before they even had a chance to live.. It hurt more than any wound he'd ever received. When he finally could move, he approached Astarte and sat beside her, reaching for her hand to give her something to hold on to. But her violent reaction caught him off guard. She jerked away, her words dripped like acid.
"It's your fault. Get away from me!"
"Astarte, listen.."
"No! It never should've happened! Why would you do this to me?!"
This was the first time she called him per "you" in the presence of other angels. He knew not what she was truly going through but if his own sorrow was any indication, it must've been a nightmare. They'd lost something they didn't even know they had and it felt like the end of the world they'd built together. In a way, it was... Abaddon tried reaching out again but Astarte batted his hand away and leaped up to her feet despite the pain.
"Don't touch me! Do not speak to me, get off!"
"Astarte!"
He managed to call out before she stormed out of the tent, wrapping her wings around herself as a barrier that could protect her from the world around. Were it not for a firm grip on his arm, he would've gone after her. It was Nathaniel who stopped him. Abaddon looked at his friend, the right side of his face wrapped up in bandages just like his side he was keeping his hand over.
"It's not going to help. Let her go for now."
It's been a long time since he felt this lonely. He left the tent without another word, ignoring whatever it was Azrael was saying, and walked away from the camp like a wandering spectre who lost its way to the Well. And when he was far enough, he found himself collapsing on the ground, angrily hitting it with his fist as though it was the culprit here. They died without so much of a name.. Abaddon knew that what Astarte said wasn't true. He had no idea, it can't have been his fault… and yet this thought kept bothering him.
I should've protected you better. I have failed you.. both of you…
It took a couple of shaky breaths to collect his thoughts. Unable to do anything else, he pulled himself to his knees, clasped his hands together and started to whisper a prayer, seeking compassion in the Creator and his silent presence.
Astarte was already slipping after that and the prolonged stay in Eden only made it worse. She became distant and irritable, constantly itching for a fight, be it with words or blades. He thought she needed time to grieve. But this was something else. Something more sinister. Perhaps if he noticed it earlier.. done something… If only…
The odd tugging suddenly ceased and moments later a wave of comforting warmth washed all over him, gathering in his side where he was impaled. Deep within his chest, he felt his heart quiver, desperately fighting to keep beating. At first he thought he was merely waiting for Astarte to pull him back into the land of the living as a detestable abomination but no.. He yet lived. His thoughts were abruptly dispersed when he heard voices, very familiar and concerned voices, break through, the buzzing in his head.
"Did that do it?"
"Is he even alive ?"
"Hard to tell. It doesn't look good.."
"No, it doesn't.. Do you think we got to him on time?"
"I do not know. I'm not even sure if- Wait, I think he moved."
Abaddon indeed stirred, prying his eyes open with no small effort, immediately regretting his choice after a far too bright light intruded underneath his eyelids, and descending into a fit of uncontrollable coughs, spitting out all the blood that remained within as soon as he took a deeper breath. Pain. Horrible, excruciating pain filled his chest. He had been right. His sternum was definitely broken.
Damn all of it. Damn Lucifer, damn the Nephilim and damn the blasted air that hurt his lungs with every breath. Mist eventually fell from his sights, revealing to him familiar, tired faces of angelic soldiers leaning over him with distressed looks. His men. The Faneguard. They survived. Some of them at least… Malahidael wasn't so lucky.. One of them, Fariel if his memory doesn't deceive him, was holding up Abaddon's hand in his, and held between his curled fingers, Abaddon noticed an emptied crystal, a used up healing shard glimmering in the sunlight as the energy that was channelled into his body began to close the torn blood vessels.
"Lord Abaddon. Can you hear me?"
Gasping for another bit of air, horribly weakened but still very much alive and likely to stay that way, Abaddon gurgled out a disturbing sound that was supposed to be a miserable chuckle. In honesty, it sounded more like a dying demon than a laugh.. It only served to agitate them even further until he breathed out with relief and nodded as no coherent word could form in his mouth. What happened to Astarte when he was on death's door, he could only guess. But one thing he was sure of. She was still out there. Raving mad and dangerous to all who step into Eden. The law was clear. Astarte had fallen into darkness, defiled the dead and raised her weapon against her brethren. This was not an easy decision but after what he'd seen and lived through, Abaddon was certain now. He tried to bring her back, save her from the hate that grew within her like a malicious weed. But she was clearly too far gone. He couldn't help her.. Too late. As always, he was too late. Whether Abaddon likes it or not, Astarte needs to die. There was nothing more he could do for her. But he won't be the one to play the executioner and the hand of justice. He knew he couldn't. He'd failed twice already.. It will be done, just… not now.
Perhaps another time… They were safe for now. And he needed to think… Abaddon lifted his free hand to his mouth. It was still there, this horrid sensation.. and he knew it won't go away for a long, long time. Resting his head against the ground, he exhaled heavily as blessed unconsciousness started to take a hold on him once more. He needed to rest. They all did…
Even as he was falling into the dark again, he could still feel Astarte's venomous kiss upon his lips. Burning like fire and sinking cruel claws into his chest. Would he ever forgive her for tearing his heart apart? Probably. It wasn't her fault after all. It can't be, can it? Would he ever forget, though? Unlikely.. Abaddon couldn't help but wonder… if it was all his fault? He couldn't command his feelings and order them to leave him. But still, he felt guilty. Not even for Astarte's fall anymore but for ever letting this infatuation control him. That's where this love had gotten him so far. It left him weak and vulnerable. It was beautiful while it lasted but now? Only suffering remained.
No wonder Heaven has such a disdain for love. It causes naught but misery and ruin. A dire thought invaded his hazy mind. It matters not what Astarte had done. He still loved her. Soon, she will be put to rest. And him? Well.. Every, even the greatest warrior has to fall in battle. Eventually… And when that day comes, he will be ready to embrace his end. When that day comes.. they will meet again. Maybe... But until then… His heart hastened even still as he took another breath and silently told himself…
…Never again…
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It.. it was supposed to be short? I did say short fic, didn't I? Uhh.. Whoops 😓
Also, Gimp 2 has nearly succeed in driving me nuts. In Poland we say "stand on eyelashes and clap one's ears" when something is nigh impossible. Yeah. That was that.
Btw, I take back everything I said about Abaddon's shoulder pads , they're mf'ing gorgeous 👌
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bugmangaka · 2 years
Text
Character of the Day #10! Freesia
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     Queen Freesia was the Queen of the seiki before Dahlia was. She's Dahlia, Jasmine, Cedar, and Yarrow's mother. She likely had the shortest rule out of any queen from this kingdom. Freesia suffers from a serious genetic disorder called "Roripellis Disease," which skips a generation. She was the only one in her litter to be born with it. Roripellis Disease causes the extremities of a seiki to turn grey, such as hands and feet. The lungs also are affected and are covered in grey flecks. The tail and antennae are affected the most severely, however. The disease causes the tissue of the seiki's tail and antennae to turn grey and harden, making the tissue slowly chip away. There are both mild and severe cases of Roripellis Disease; In mild cases the symptoms can be managed with special antennae ointments that soften the tissue a bit. In more severe cases, the antennae are wrapped to try and prevent further decay. The tail and antennae will decay and chip away to the point where they're almost gone, and the base of the antennae will start to build up and harden creating pressure beneath the skull, which causes seizures. Since the antennae are how seiki hear, smell, and sense their surroundings, Roripellis disease causes loss of smell, loss of hearing, dizziness, and even deafness. Freesia is the most severe case ever recorded so far. She became queen because she was the only girl in her litter, and in the seiki kingdom only females are next in line. As she got older her condition only worsened to concerning levels, she would wrap her antennae and decorate them to seem like she was healthier to the public, but her staff knew that she was in a lot of pain. She already knew that she wasn't going to live a long life, and as she got sicker she knew it was important for her to produce an heir before she died.Now, the royal staff/castle have a special program in place for when a queen needs an heir, it's hidden from the public and has been tradition for centuries. There's a special wing in the kingdom called the "Twilight Wing," where the program takes place. The queen's staff scout out higher class men who have a healthy family history and are considered "worthy" enough. The queen would then meet with them and choose one to produce an heir with. He's paid well for this job, and then moves into the twilight wing for as long as he's needed. Basically, he mates with her until they conceive. The men have to sign a contract of confidentiality, they're not allowed to say what they were at the castle for, and they are not allowed to tell others that they are the father. When the heirs are born, they only take their mother's name, and they aren't told who their father is. The kingdom doesn't question this, it's just how it's always been. Freesia went through this program, but she was in such a hurry that she had her staff take care of it entirely, she gave up any say in who they chose for her. Her staff ended up choosing River, who she only met one his first night when he was sent into her room. The two spent a lot of time together and eventually fell in love (even though they weren't supposed to since River would have to leave the castle once they conceived). She was able to be vulnerable to him, which she couldn't be to her kingdom. He helped her keep her chin up about her situation and enjoy life while she still had it. When she finally did conceive he was kicked out even though she wanted him to stay. She was told that she had to focus on her kingdom instead of love. She did her best to raise her four kids, she was sick most of the time so couldn't be with them all the time, they'd visit her as she laid in bed. She eventually lost most of her hearing and began having seizures, and she died when her kids were 19. Her doctors didn't expect her to live that long, but she was strong enough to see her children's lives up until they graduated. That's when Dahlia was crowned as the current queen at age 19.
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hpdabbles · 3 years
Note
While it was interesting to see Naruto reveal Peter is an agnimus or whatever as well as a death eater.....
Remus!
Please!
Let Naruto reunite with Remus!
Please!!!
There was a whirlwind of people rushing everywhere after Rat-man was tackled, mayhem as every single customer tried to press themselves as far away from the struggling male or get closer to watch.
The family of redheads was one of the few that pressed closer though the eldest were pushing the children back. The twins stretched their necks to get a better look over the mother who is so stressed her hair was actually getting fizzier by the second. 
He could sympathize with her. The Leaf ninja preferred not involving civilians when he could but sometimes they made it so hard to control the crowds. There will always be that one person who wanted to get closer not measuring the risks if they did. 
It’s a good thing Naruto had never been in charge of crowd control. He always left that to whatever unfortunate level-headed teammate he was partnered with. He didn’t give anyone a second glance watching the struggling men with a keen eye looking for any weakness. 
Rat-man is pinned against the floor, his stomach to the ground with his arms bound behind his back in some kind of invisible justu. Naruto had of course jump in to save him, managed to knock the two men back, and kicked the strange chakra filled sticks from their hands in a flying kick one right after the other. The moment he got the shortest Auror’s stick the justu around Ratman’s wrist and ankles shatter like glass. 
The filthy man is on his feet in seconds snatching one of the sticks from the floor as he does, reaching out and yanking Naruto into his chest. The dull end of the wood is pressed against the jugular of the Leaf ninja. The crowd watching gasps, staring in horror, and the air in the room swiftly becomes strained  
“No one move! I’ll curse him if anyone so much as thinks of getting closer!” Ratman yells. Naruto tilts his eyes upwards confuse about why he being held like a hostage. Does his parents' friend not recognize him, thus thinking he was an enemy?
Not that it wouldn’t be surprising. After all the last time he saw Naruto the boy had been a baby of one going on two years old.
“Rat-man? It’s me. Harry Potter, James’ and Lily’s son. You know me.” He starts but that only causes the man holding him to jolt the wood harder in his skin. These are not the actions of an alley, nor of someone who doesn’t recognize him. Because for a brief moment there was regret in those blue eyes that glance down to meet his new green gaze. Rat man knows and he is still taking him hostage.
It clicks in his head then and a rush of rage the kind reserved for the worst of scum, those lowered then trash.  “You’re a traitor. The one that led that man to our house that night. The reason Mom and Dad are dead”
He throws back an elbow, grinning at the gasp of pain it causes before Naruto is falling into a low crouch. Using one foot to balance himself he swifts out a leg, quick as a snake, knocking the man off his feet when the grip on him flatters due to the elbow winding the man as he hoped. In the same movement, he summons three clones, as the man is tumbling over. 
One clone uses the back of his hand to knock the stick away, then throws a punch to the unprotected face. Rat-man’s nose crunches under his knuckles breaking the bones with a satisfying holler of pain. The second clone grabs hold of the strange robes to rotate them in a desire direction and slams Rat-man through a table, breaking the wood with the force he puts behind it. 
While the man is scrambling to regain his balance the last clone leaps into the air to land the heel of his shoe on the man’s temple knocking him out completely after he was dazed from breaking the table.  It’s over before it truly began. 
“Wow,” the little redhead girl from the family that had Rat-man whispers into the stun silence of the room as Naruto glares at the fallen man. 
“Traitors are worse than scum” Naruto hisses outrage he spent so many years of his new life worried for this man. A man who took two precious people away from him. 
The screen is then over-run by Aurors who insist Naruto accompany them to someplace called Ministry of Magic where he is await for his guardians to collect him. Knowing the Duresly as he does that may time may never actually come to be. 
The minutes turn to hours, slower and duller than the last. The green eye youth has no idea what has become of Rat-man, of what will happen to him, and how they would contact his aunt and uncle but his patience is running rather thin.
The Leaf ninja has entertained himself by practicing some chakra control and sticking the various objects he found in the office. He has so far attached five quills to his face, a potted plant to his head, and a spin of a book to his forehead. Since his chakra was still alarming large for the body he now held, Naruto had also carefully walked up the walls, and sat cross-legged on the ceiling overlooking the room from right in the center. 
Time moves agonizing slow, with no sign of anyone come to update him since they brought him to the room to wait. 
He is debating breaking out of the room- they locked it with some kind of Justu he isn’t familiar with but they left his chakra alone. It could be because they were underestimating him but Naruto got the feeling they honestly forgot. 
The door opens as he thinking half in a meditational trance of gathering natural chakra. A man gasps.  “What in the world-”
Naruto’s eyes rip open and right there stand one of the men he’s been searching for. The objects that were pressed to his body fall as his attention to his control shatters. He allows himself to fall down as well headfirst with a cry of glee. The man watching lets out a gasp rushing forward to catch him. The green-eyed boy lands perfectly in the arms of his fellow jinchuuriki. He threw his arms around the weary shoulders of someone who had to live alone for years, squeezing without his might. 
Not anymore. Naruto would not allow him to be lonely. No matter what anyone said or did, the ninja swore he would stay by this man’s side. “’Emus!  I found you!”
“I don’t-Harry? You remember me?” The words are spoken in bewilderment as if though he could not imagine anyone being this please to see him.
“Of course I do!” The boy gushes pressing his face into the strong neck near him. There are a lot of new scares here, more than he can remember each tingling with faded but ever-present charka of a tail beast. Had his prisoner attempted to take the body by force to the point it injured ‘Emus in a way it could not heal? How awful. 
His poor ‘Emus.
“Mr.Lupin.” Someone says with slight disapproval. The tone makes the young man bristle protectively. Is this one of those people who don’t think Jinchuuriki has the right to behave like people? 
“Yes of course.” ‘Emus attempts to set him on his feet but the boy only clings to him tighter glaring over the shoulder of the fretting man to a woman in pink who watches with lips pressed tightly. “Harry please get down. We need to speak to you about Sirius Black-”
“Who?”
“I believe you used to call me Dog-man” A jagged and hoarse voice calls from behind the woman. The lady's face twists as if though she smelled something awful stepping away from a skeleton of a man in striped clothes and long unwashed hair. He looks haunted, broken in the same way he has seen Leaf comrades do when they rescue them from enemy lines. His eyes look weary, his body shifting in nervousness almost as if he isn’t sure how Naruto will react to him.
It only due to the sense of Dog that the number one leaf village’s knucklehead ninja recognize him. 
“Dog-man!” Naruto lets go of ‘Emus to run towards the man. He stops himself from initiating physical contact as that is the basic protocol for recovered comrades, waiting just out of arms reach for the other to control how Naruto can touch him. 
Dog-man’s eyes grow water. “Look at you. Just like James.”
Naruto smiles. “I have my mom’s eyes don’t I? Mean a part of me is pretty.”
Dog man looks startled for a second before he throws his head back and barks out a laugh as savage as his appearance. It’s lovely to see some life bloom on that sullen face which makes his signature grin-the real one- grow on Naruto’s face
A pointed clearing of a throat breaks the sound and the woman in pink steps forward. “While this is lovely and all we must not forget why we are here.”
“We are aware Miss. Umbridge” ‘Emus says his tone just a touch aware from being respectful. He walks over but strangely he keeps his distance from Dog-man who throws him a desperately longing look as the other man looks anywhere but him. 
“What’s going on?” Naruto asks meaning between the two males but the Umbridge must have misken his meaning since she gives him a sweetly fake smile that has his skin crawling with distaste.
“Mr. Potter, the ministry has come into newfound evidence that Mr. Black was falsely accused of being a Death Eater. Earlier today he has been released from his cell and is now pending compensation. He asked to speak to you but as you would know the ministry could not allow a man driven mad by Azkaban to be near such an important figure such as yourself alone and we are here to prepare a visiting schedule-”
“What’s Azkaban?” Naruto cuts her off. Her face tightens with rage about interrupted but ‘Emus answers before she can say anything.
“A prison for wizards. A very bad prison. A place that can make people go insane. No one ever comes out right from there” There is a dull hollowness that speaks of guilt in the jinvhuuriki’s voice. 
The boy nods looking up at Dog-man who seems as if though he hasn’t been feed properly in years, bathed, or even sleep correctly either. His whole face has gone pasty white, whatever cheer the laughter he had earlier has been chased away. “Why was he sent there?”
“We believed he was a Death Eater. A terrible war crime you see.” The woman says in a faux sweet tone like she was speaking to a child who asked why the sky was blue.  
“So you made a mistake, punished a man for a crime he didn’t commit, and now blame him for being a bit loony after sending him to a place you design to make people loony?” He no longer held Kurama in him but sometimes when Naruto got angry he could feel a shade of the fox’s dangerous aura filling the air around him. The three must have felt the same sense everyone tense. “You won’t let me near Dog-man for a stupid reason like that? Do I understand you correctly?”
“Mr. Potter you must understand. This is for your safety and the safety of the public.” Umbridge says through clenched teeth. She looks pale, trembling with wide eyes clutching the clipboard she brought with her to her chest. “Mr. Black will be allowed trips out of his house with a ministry champion, scheduled and organize -”
“You. Are not. Placing him under. House. Arrest.” Naruto growled grasping what she meant quickly. This was the same thing a ninja would tell a traveling merchant who was not allowed to leave their lands for whatever reason once stepping in the village.
 Sometimes it was to gain their merchandise exclusively for the village, others it was to hold them as hostages for traders or to steal their trade routes. This was a perfectly legal practice done since the Clan war.  Naruto always planned on changing that law when he became Hokage once upon a time. “If you do I will person rip you all apart.”
“Is that a threat?” She sneered only to cower at Naruto's ruthless grin.
“No, it’s a promise.” He allowed his killing intent to fill the air. Dog-man gasp while ‘Emus pulled out his want and the Umbridge fainted. Naruto made no move to catch her watching her hit the ground with a satisfied smile.
“H-Harry-what -how did you-?” Dog-man starts but Naruto breezes past him.
“I’ll be right back. I got to go yell at the person in charge to let them know how dumb that idea is. Don’t worry we will all live in the same house by the end of the day believe it!”
For Naruto wasn’t allow anyone to tell him he couldn’t. Not after so many years of searching. 
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infini-tree · 3 years
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what if i just. dump some oc lore/meta
the other two principals
in order of how long they’ve been principals from longest to shortest its krupp (10-15), biamile (5-10), and selainius (1-3). the fact that selainius is relatively new is somewhat of a sticking point to her, which is exacerbated by the whole thing about middle school being overlooked and biamile being Obliviously Condescending to her in his attempts at being nice
krupp and selainius are foils in terms of surface level personality but diverge at how. its kind of expressed? krupp’s go to is fiery anger, while selainius’ wrath runs colder
krupp and biamile are foils in the sense as to how they run their schools. sure, krupp is The Worst but at least the school is somehow still relatively functional (which is saying something considering the monster of the week attacks). biamile, while nice, can be a bit of a flake and too passive, leading to him being unable to take charge when his school gets into hot water-- going so far as to rely on the vice principal
mr. biamile, true to his pun name is incredibly oblivious. in a twist of irony one of the things he isn’t oblivious about that selainius was for the longest time was captain’s existence (she thought that him and krupp were doing the principal’s equivalent to hazing her)
also sception backstory ( ty to penstrokes for helping me w it :) ! )
early in during TERDS’ development a faction developed in the ranks to oppose the idea/how its being handled. its key opposers had been kicked out shortly after... only for them to make a group of their own
over time the counter group grew, and sent several double agents to sabotage the project. sception happened to be one of them-- and a high ranking one at that. he was ultimately the one who did the ‘final blow’ of sorts for the project
unfortunately, sception couldn’t get out of the scene quick enough and got caught up in the chaos of the flood... which led to him getting a huge scar
(its the world’s largest paper cut caused by the envelopes that were miraculously still dry)
sception was extracted from the scene by some other double agents/he managed to escape himself. with the job done and TERDS none the wiser, he left the group and went off to do his other passion-- be a birdwatcher. and also a librarian
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artificialqueens · 4 years
Text
Level Up, Chapter Two (Branjie) - Holtzmanns
“They make ones with velcro, y’know.”
Vanessa snaps her head up and Brooke is sitting down across from her, leaning against the wall of lockers while looking like more of a model than anyone has the right to while all sweaty. Brooke raises an eyebrow, gestures to Vanessa’s failed attempt at her wrap. “Let me.”
“I can do it myself.” Vanessa doesn’t need help; sure she’s a beginner, but she can do it-
“I know.”
AN: Hello hello hello Christine, thank you all SO much for all the kind words about the first chapter. I’m so happy that you guys like it so far. Chapter two time, hope you enjoy.
Thank you times a million to writ for both betaing and being the best support system ever, I love you <3
“The bills-”
“Don’t say it-”
“The bills for the month are here.”
Brooke groans when Kameron hands her the envelopes, monthly reminders of the fact that the costs never end, that they’re scraping to keep the gym afloat. Because it’s not supposed to be this hard, the pipes aren’t supposed to fall apart and the windows aren’t supposed to need replacement and Brooke needs to keep the place alive.
Kameron lifts herself up onto the counter, giving Brooke the look that she always does when she wants to talk. “I know you don’t want to, but it may not be a bad idea to-”
“No.” Brooke doesn’t need Kameron to finish her sentence to know what she’s about to suggest. But she can’t do it.
“Imagine not just the money, but the publicity for the gym-”
“Absolutely not.” Brooke’s voice is flat, and it feels as if it’s reflecting the way she feels inside, the sudden blankness that never fails to overtake her when it comes to thinking about these scenarios. “I’m never competing again. You know that.”
“D’you really think he’d want that for you?” Kameron’s question makes Brooke wince because it’s a low blow, one she doesn’t really want to think about.
“Fuck off, Kam. Don’t you have a class to teach?”
Kameron raises an eyebrow. “It isn’t for another forty five minutes. You ever pay attention to the schedule?”
“I’m not one of the instructors.”
“Which is a shame, y’know. You’d be good at it.” Kameron hops off the counter, resting her face against her palm, and Brooke hums noncommittally, shrugging.
“Managing the administrative piece is enough for me.”
It’s strange, to Brooke, the way that her relationship with boxing has shifted. How one small little event has changed the course of her trajectory, of what she’d been planning on doing with her life. But taking a backseat, solely running the gym, is safe. It’s less of a reminder of what had happened even if she’s in this building every day, even if she’s reminded of her dad by every picture on the wall, each trophy on the shelves.
Kameron’s words replay in her brain as she sits at her desk, figures out the payroll. She could easily hire someone and go back to fighting, to competitions - Kameron’s not wrong about the fact that it’ll bring in more money, more publicity, that the mere presence of her last name alone will be enough to boost talk about her. Maybe then she’d be able to give some badly needed upgrades to the gym, replace the broken mirror on the far wall or maybe get some new punching bags that don’t hold thirty years of practice and sweat. She wouldn’t have to worry about finances every month, about keeping the doors of the gym open-
But Brooke can’t.
She can’t.
She sighs, rubbing her eyes before glancing up at the clock on the wall. The giant poster of her dad that hangs underneath it stares right back at her, and it’s hard, really, to try and ignore his influence when he’s quite literally imposing it on her the same way he did when he had been alive.
What would her dad do, in a situation like this?
The answer comes easily to Brooke. He’d go back to fighting - in fact, he’d never leave, he’d participate in more and more matches the way he always would and then-
Well, Brooke knows the rest well enough. She’s not going to let that happen to her.
Besides, the gym’s going to survive solely because her dad’s eventually going to come back as a ghost and keep the doors from ever closing. Brooke wouldn’t be surprised by it in the least.
She closes the open tabs one by one once she’s done her work, shutting the computer monitor off and leaning back in her chair with a sigh. Her brain feels like a jumble of numbers that she knows she’s going to have to go over at a later time, to make sure she hasn’t missed any mistakes. The ache in her neck and upper back from sitting at the desk the entire day doesn’t fade as she reaches back to massage her shoulders and roll out her neck. She’s not one for being sedentary all day, no matter how much she tries to convince herself of the fact to get through the workload.
But one good part of owning a gym? She can peel herself out of her desk chair and leave her office, shaking off the cobwebs that are surely beginning to weave themselves onto her shoulders. And since Brooke has no qualms about coming to work in athleisure, she can get herself moving and sweating before she even has time to think about it.
It gives her the chance to clear her head, take one of the bags hanging in the back of the gym and just turn her brain off. Practicing her old drills against the heavy punching bag, getting the chance to relish in the recoil as it swings against the chains suspending it from the ceiling checks off an imaginary tick box in her brain, gives her a sense of satisfaction that not much else can. It allows her to give into the muscle memory that’s deeply rooted into her brain and almost feels like an instinct, an ingrained habit.
She doesn’t have to worry about money, or about how she’s going to keep the gym going, or about how her mom really thinks ‘you should try talking to someone, honey,’ or the fact that she still needs to get her car’s oil changed. None of it matters anymore, not when the adrenaline in her system is stronger than the impact of her knuckles against the bag, and the feeling of sweat dripping down her back.
If Brooke punches hard enough, it all goes away. If she hits a combination the way she’s supposed to, she can almost hear her dad on the other side of the punching bag telling her to do it again. She can go back to being in his shadow, still growing, still learning in anticipation of what’s to come. She doesn’t have to carry all of the responsibilities anymore.
But then comes the part when Brooke pulls off her gloves and wipes the sweat that’s dripping from her forehead, unraveling the wraps around her hands to reveal her calloused knuckles. The adrenaline coursing through her body that keeps her from feeling any pain starts to fade as she takes a few breaths, catches herself, only to feel less stable than before.
It’s hard, trying to soothe over a wound with the very instrument that caused it in the first place. It hasn’t worked for Brooke yet, though it doesn’t stop her from trying.
“Rob! Stop smacking lips with Alexis and come outside already! You said you’d practice with me!”
“Vanj, I’m gonna lock you outta this apartment if you don’t shut the fuck up.”
Alexis’ growl isn’t enough to deter Vanessa, not when Rob’s at their place to practice drills with her and not to make out with his girlfriend, despite Alexis trying her best to distract him enough to do so.
Vanessa snickers when Alexis and Rob reluctantly detach from one another. “This is your fault, Al, y’know. If you and Rob didn’t force me to take boxing classes I woulda never gotten into it and never wanted to get better and practice more-”
Alexis rolls her eyes. “And now you’re Rocky Balboa, we get it. If you get to take Rob outside will you shut up now?”
“Aye aye, captain.”
Rob’s grinning as the two of them make their way down to the alleyway beside the apartment complex, an area that has proven to be an ample practice space over the last few weeks. “Now tell me. How much of this is you actually wanting to practice drills, and how much of it is you wanting to annoy the shit out of your sister?”
Vanessa sticks her tongue out at Rob before swiping at his gloves, ducking when he swipes back. “Guilty. Though it’s a shit ton of fun, and I wanna get better for real. How else will I whoop the asses of everyone else in the class?”
“Is that your motivation for everything in life?” Rob grunts when Vanessa puts a little bit more power into her jabs, watching as he recoils back slightly. “Is it because you’re the shortest and have something to prove-ow!”
Vanessa scowls before landing another combination against Rob’s gloves. “You deserved that one.”
But Rob’s right - maybe Vanessa does have something to prove. Not necessarily to the other girls in the class, but more to herself. She’s found something that she enjoys, something that she wants to work on. Something that’s made her punches at least 30 percent more effective. Boxing has made her want to go straight to the gym after work, rather than spend all her money at the bar while fruitlessly scrolling through tinder and feeling her twenties slip away from her in a haze of mediocrity.
Maybe the sensation of becoming quicker on her feet, of being able to execute combinations that she’s never been able to do before, is making her drive grow more and more. Vanessa feels like she’s climbing more than she’s able to do in her job, experiencing a sense of growth that’s bigger than the tiny apartment that her and Alexis share so that they can afford the rent. It’s the feeling of accomplishment when everything else in her life feels like it’s at a standstill.
Well, a feeling of accomplishment in everything except one area of boxing.
“These stupid fucking wraps…” Vanessa grumbles to herself when the fabric unravels on her hand just as she’s about to pin it down, letting out a sigh before wrapping the cloth again.
It’s been almost a month of boxing, and Vanessa still can never get the wraps to sit properly on her hands. They always shift and loosen underneath her gloves, feeling like more of a nuisance than any sort of protection. She needs to get Monet or Monique to show her exactly how to wrap them one of these days, before she does something stupid like throwing them out.
“They make ones with velcro, y’know.”
Vanessa snaps her head up and Brooke is sitting down across from her, leaning against the wall of lockers while looking like more of a model than anyone has the right to when all sweaty. Brooke raises an eyebrow, gestures to Vanessa’s failed attempt at her wrap. “Let me.”
“I can do it myself.” Vanessa doesn’t need help; sure she’s a beginner, but she can do it-
“I know.”
Brooke’s pulling Vanessa’s hands onto her lap and Vanessa’s brain doesn’t have any protests left anymore, not when Brooke’s deftly wrapping the fabric around her hands with a touch that’s firm but gentle. Brooke’s fingers glide over the fabric as she presses it down, smoothing it to Vanessa’s skin to protect her knuckles and palms from the impact that they’ll take once she’s out of the change room.
Brooke’s face is calm as she works, a slight furrow in her brow as she pins the edge of the wrap on one hand to keep it steady. She grabs Vanessa’s other hand and repeats the process, until both of Vanessa’s hands are snug and protected and she’s not quite sure if she wants Brooke to let go of them anymore.
“There. Done.”
Vanessa can feel the way her breath hitches in her chest, even through the normal action of trying to bring air into her lungs. Brooke gives her hands a squeeze before letting them go, and Vanessa brings them back onto her own lap while trying to maintain an air of suaveness that she’s not sure is truly believable.
“Thanks.”
It comes out more sheepish than Vanessa intends it to, but it’s hard to come up with words when Brooke’s looking at her like that, the knowing half smile on her face that somehow knows too much even though Vanessa’s barely said anything.
Brooke grins. “Anytime. Now, don’t you have a class to get to?”
It’s enough to break the imaginary ice because Vanessa rolls her eyes when Brooke cracks up, and suddenly it’s not hard to feel at ease with someone who laughs at her own jokes. She doesn’t miss the way Brooke’s eyes linger on her when she reaches the locker room door, turning back one last time.
“If I’m late, I’m telling Kameron it’s your fault.”
Brooke swings out of her office when Kameron gets her class started on their practice drills. The administration work can wait, because it’s more fun to watch the way the students attempt to bonk each other with the gloves that still are an unfamiliar armour around their fists.
“Monique and Monet haven’t argued yet about who throws a better punch, so I’m considering it a win.” Kameron points to the two girls in the back, and Brooke leans against the wall beside her, tilts her head as she watches.
“These guys a good group?”
“Good as any beginner class.” Kameron shrugs. “They’ve all paid their registration fees and that alone makes them gold.”
Brooke ignores Kameron’s words, the ones that keep reminding her of the way the gym is teetering on a financial cliff that she doesn’t quite want to think about. “Tell me about her.”
Brooke knows that Kameron doesn’t even have to follow Brooke’s gaze to see that she’s talking about Vanessa. Really, how could she not, when Vanessa’s holding her gloves up to her face like it’s her job, just a tad too close but enough for Brooke to see that she’s been paying attention and practicing in class? Vanessa’s eyes are laser focused, narrowed as she hits up against her partner’s gloves and there’s just something about her that Brooke can’t pull away from, a magnetic force that she doesn’t quite understand just yet.
But it’s no matter. Brooke just likes how spunky, how unapologetic she is - someone refreshing enough not to walk on eggshells around her, to not be intimidated by her. Sure, maybe it’s because Vanessa doesn’t know her history or that of the gym but it’s…nice. To meet someone who volleys comebacks at her like it’s second nature.
Vanessa throws a punch at the girl she’s partnered with, who lifts her gloves a second too late and ends up taking the hit. Vanessa lets out a woo , both hands up in the air, before going close to the girl, putting a glove on her shoulder (‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, are you okay?’).
“Hello? Did you listen to anything I just said?” Kameron’s waving her hand in front of Brooke’s face and it makes her jump, pulling her attention away from Vanessa.
“What?” Brooke blinks, running a hand through her hair and trying not to let her gaze shift back to the way Vanessa’s already sparring again. “Repeat that.”
Kameron snorts. “You’re already smitten, aren’t you? She is your type, after all.”
Brooke wrinkles her nose. She doesn’t have a type. Not that she dates much, anyway. “What’s my type?”
“Girls who make you this googly eyed, that’s what. A rare find.” Kameron snickers, nudging her shoulder.
“Shut up.” Brooke rolls her eyes. “She’s just fun to watch.”
“And that’s not a creepy thing to say at all.”
Brooke sticks her tongue out at Kameron, who looks a little too proud of herself. “Shouldn’t you be teaching a class right now?”
“See, I would be, if there wasn’t someone distracting me with conversation right at this very moment.” Kameron gives Brooke a little wave before going back to the class, already yelling about the next drills she wants them to practice.
Vanessa’s mimicking the moves Kameron does as she demonstrates for the class, as if trying to commit them to memory, and Brooke has to hold back a smile. The sight reminds Brooke of when she was younger, so eager and willing to learn and just wanting to be better. And honestly, after all the gym has been through, and as weary Brooke has gotten over the years? It’s refreshing.
Kameron yells at the class to try the drills out on their own and Vanessa’s already bouncing in place, ready to go. Brooke watches as her eyes flit around before landing on hers, and doesn’t miss the way Vanessa pauses, a hitch in her step. Vanessa doesn’t pull her eyes away, tilts her head slightly as if in question, and Brooke can’t help but wink back. Especially when it makes Vanessa nearly miss the jab that her drill partner throws in her direction.
Oops.
Brooke heads back to her office, because she really does need to call the electrician to fix the thermostats and she has to organize the schedule for next month’s classes, even though watching the beginner group get used to their boxing gloves is more entertaining than she wants to admit. The administrative part of owning a gym is menial - tasks that turn her brain off, ones that she could probably hire someone to do, but…she doesn’t mind them. It’s nice, having control over the little aspects of the gym. Making sure everything is running as it should be.
She’s absorbed in the excel spreadsheet in front of her and doesn’t even notice Vanessa in the doorway until there’s a knock on her desk that makes her jump. Vanessa sits down across from her, gloves slung across her shoulder but knuckles still wrapped, 5he light beads of sweat along her forehead and cheekbones and the way she’s still out of breath betraying the fact that the class has just ended. Vanessa slouches in the chair, lifting her leg onto her seat and Brooke can’t help but lean forward.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Oh, nothing much. Just wanted to check out your digs.” Vanessa’s eyes trail along the pictures on the wall, the awards that line the shelves and she whistles. “Damn. You win all these?”
Brooke snorts. “No. Some of them. Definitely not all of them.”
Truth is, Brooke hasn’t known what to do with her dad’s old trophies and newspaper clippings and memorabilia. She can’t just throw it all away, because it would be wrong somehow and her dad would probably turn over in his grave and as much as it hurts to see…it wouldn’t be right to let it go. But having it all around her isn’t much better, she knows that. It’s become a mosaic of reminders of events that she wants to forget, banish from her mind even though it would feel sacrilegious to do so.
So she just ignores all of it, pretending that it isn’t there. Even though it’s hard to do when Vanessa’s craning her neck up, pointing at the pictures that decorate the surfaces like wallpaper.
“No way. Is that you? Six year old you had abs? What the fuck?” Vanessa’s out of her seat, squinting to read the caption on a picture from a newspaper article.
Brooke remembers when the picture had been taken. She had been competing in a tournament, one that her dad had coached her in and when she’d won, the reporters had wanted a picture of the two of them together. To show off the family legacy, as one would. Her dad had hoisted her on his shoulders and Brooke remembers the way she had felt a million feet tall. Unstoppable. Like all the matches she would ever have would be hers to win, and that she never ever wanted to stop fighting, not when the feeling of winning was so satisfying.
She wonders what six year old Brooke would think of her now.
“You were cute as fuck.” Vanessa makes a little pouting face and Brooke can’t help but grin, roll her eyes.
“Was, huh?”
“Don’t you go fishing for compliments, I see you.” Vanessa wiggles a finger at her and sits back down, leaning her elbows on Brooke’s desk. “Now what you up to here in this little office dungeon of yours?”
“It’s not a dungeon. It has plenty of natural light. Sort of.” Brooke can’t help but try to defend the place, even though Vanessa is right. It is a little bit bleak. “Working on administrative stuff. Not quite that exciting.”
“You’re telling me this stuff is more fun than being out there, beating up a punching bag or two?” Vanessa makes a face as she looks at her, and Brooke shrugs.
“Nah. But I have to do it. So I do.”
Vanessa blinks. “Man, my ADHD ass is hella jealous that you can just do things. You ain’t gotta argue with your brain for an hour about it first?”
“Sometimes, when it comes to the financial stuff. The math always gets me.” Thank goodness they hire an accountant when it comes to taxes.
“Amen to that.”
Vanessa leans back in her chair and Brooke closes the window on her computer, gathers all the papers on her desk because she’s not going to get much done anyway, not with Vanessa here. Instead, she turns her attention back to the girl in front of her. “So, how’s that beginner class treating you? Is boxing everything you thought it would be?”
The way Vanessa’s face lights up is almost cute, as is the way she sits up in her seat. “It’s fun as hell. How’d I not know y’all were hiding this gym from me until recently?”
“Hiding, huh?”
“Anyway,” Vanessa airily waves a hand, “I like it. I wanna take more but there’s only two beginner classes a week. How am I supposed to get better with just two?”
Brooke raises an eyebrow. Vanessa wants to take more? She’s already seen her around when they have open gym nights, and it’s true, Vanessa hasn’t really missed a beginner class since she’s started. Huh.
“Why are you sticking to beginner classes? Don’t think you can handle an intermediate one?”
Vanessa’s reaction is exactly what Brooke anticipates it to be. “Can’t handle-bitch, I’ll show you handling.” Vanessa lets out a grumble as she crosses her arms, and Brooke has to hold back a laugh.
“Try one. I think you’ll be able to hold your own.”
Vanessa can’t stop herself from following Brooke’s advice. She starts attending the intermediate classes, spars with girls who have been taking boxing for years and yes, sometimes she gets her ass kicked when they catch her off guard or are too fast, but-
There’s times where she doesn’t. Times where she’s able to execute a combination perfectly, times where she’s able to get a win or two or three and the feeling is absolutely addictive. Winning. Having Kameron look at her with an impressed expression and having her opponents give her reluctant nods.
She notices the way her arms and legs get firmer to the touch, the way the faintest hint of abs begin to peek underneath the soft layer of her shirt. The way braiding her hair back takes less than thirty seconds now, because the faster she’s able to do so, the faster she can get out on the floor.
Silky and A’keria notice one early morning, when they’re in front of the floor to ceiling mirrors at a shoot that’s going to be paying them well. Vanessa’s trying to focus, she really is, on the strange combination of purple and green that she’s supposed to follow for the model’s makeup, despite the fact that it’s a little too reminiscent of Barney. She rolls her neck once she finishes the model’s cut crease, stretching her arms up to loosen the way her muscles have tensed.
Silky makes eye contact with her as she does, letting out a little whistle. “Damn, Vanj. Since when are you ripped as fuck?”
“What?” Vanessa’s brows furrow until Silky points at her shirt, which has slightly risen up from stretching her arms. She tugs it back down, her cheeks reddening, and busies herself with blending her model’s shadow and hoping she hasn’t noticed.
“It’s cause you always be at that gym.” A’keria tuts, waving her mascara wand. “You ain’t even coming out with us these days.”
“Hey! I came out last Friday.” Vanessa protests, because it’s true. She did. So maybe she went home by 10:30 so that she could get enough sleep before going to open gym hours the next morning, but that’s beside the point. “You guys should try it. You’d like boxing, too. I feel so good these days.”
Vanessa really does. Like Yoda, or some shit. All that she wants to do is go to the gym and train and maybe it’s a bit of a shift from how she’d been about six or so months ago, but it’s fun. Maybe A’keria and Silky would enjoy it, too.”
Except Silky just gives her a look. “You think my ass would ever willingly go in there? What I enjoy personally is going to my couch and watching 90 Day Fiance. ‘Cause I have taste.”
“I prefer my yoga, sorry Vanj.” A’keria shrugs. “That being said, your ass is definitely calmer. You haven’t lost your shit at anyone in ages.”
Vanessa pauses. While A’keria’s statement isn’t exactly true, since she’d gotten into an argument with Alexis this morning about their shared conditioner in the shower, the fact that her ass hasn’t had to be bailed out from the local station in a while is…nice. Even if Rob’s usually the one that books her after one too many bar fights.
“Does boxing teach you to talk about your feelings?” Silky snickers as she sprays setting spray across her client’s face, and Vanessa scowls.
“Want me to break my streak, Silk?”
“Geez, relax.” Silky sticks her tongue out at her. “Big Silk is proud of you for it, y’know.”
“Hmph.” Vanessa tries not to smile as she turns her attention back to her model. “Whatever.”
It’s something that sticks in Vanessa’s mind as her workday ends though, as she grabs her gym bag and heads out for the evening. It’s not that she doesn’t feel as strongly as she used to, because she definitely does. Sometimes things get so overwhelming that all she wants to do is snap and let out the extra energy that feels like it’s building and building and building but…she can’t do it when she fights in the gym. She has to hold back, only throw a punch when necessary and be strategic about it for the strongest impact. And it feels like that strategy has shifted over to other parts of her life, too.
It isn’t her first instinct anymore just to go off on someone. She’s better at holding back, at waiting even when she wants to burst, and she supposes that it isn’t necessarily a bad thing.
Maybe Alexis had been onto something all those months ago.
The change room is rowdy when Vanessa finally reaches the gym, changing into her sports bra and leggings like it’s second nature. Monet and Monique are spread out on the ground, lying across from one another and attempting to arm wrestle, and Vanessa shoots a questioning look to Asia, who only shrugs.
“What can I even say at this point?” Asia grabs her water bottle, heads out the door. “See you out there, Vanj.”
Vanessa braids her hair to the sounds of Monet and Monique arguing about arm wrestling techniques and she���s glad, really, that her friends have moved up to take the intermediate classes, too. It makes it fun, and even more so satisfying when she beats one of them while sparring.
It’s nice. Vanessa’s steadily gaining a community around her, and it’s one that she doesn’t want to lose anytime soon.
Kameron’s face is excited when the class comes to an end, when gloves are coming off and water bottles are being picked up for some much needed swigs. Vanessa watches as she grabs a flyer, holding it up for the class to see like a flag.
“You guys think you can hold your own against a bunch of bitches who aren’t from this gym?” Kameron cocks her head, her eyes trailing across the group.
Vanessa can’t help the way she stands on her tiptoes, trying her best to take a peek at the flyer. She’s a bit too far back and is about to poke Monet’s side to ask her to read it out loud, but there’s no need, because Kameron’s voice echoes across the gym before she even has to.
“We’re joining a tournament. Or rather, you guys are. Not much at stake except the entire reputation of our gym and it’s extensive legacy. That’s all.” Kameron snickers, before shaking her head. “I’m playing. But signup sheets are going to be posted on the change room doors for a week, so think about it if you’re interested.”
Vanessa tries her best not to fidget much until the class is over and they’re given the okay to head for the change rooms, and then she can’t hold herself back anymore from wrapping her arms around Monet and Monique’s shoulders.
“So are you guys gonna do it?” Vanessa undoes her wraps, wiggles her fingers, and even though she’s just sparred for an hour and a half, she feels more energetic than ever.
A tournament. Not just sparring in class with her friends, but a real boxing tournament.
“What, the competition?” Asia hums noncommittally, shrugging. “Thinking about it.”
“Come on! It sounds so fun.” Monique sits down beside Vanessa, sticks her leg out to trip Monet as she walks by, and the resulting explosion of swear words from Monet makes Vanessa crack up.
“I’m saying!” Vanessa nods. “We could go and fuck some shit up with people from other gyms.”
“What makes you think that it’s going to be your ass doing the beating, and not getting beat?” Monet snickers, and Vanessa gives her a look.
“Are you forgetting I just won a match against you twenty minutes ago? That memory of yours really has turned to shit with that many hits to the head.” Vanessa volleys back, and Asia and Monique let out twin cackles.
Vanessa’s mind is made up as she catches the subway home, the ache in her muscles from the class not nearly strong enough to dull the possibilities and excitement already beginning to grow in her brain. Sure, she’s never boxed in a competition setting, but why not?
Maybe Brooke will be there to watch the tournament, too.
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nikkyshows · 3 years
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Day 29: Cave Scenario
Full Scenario: A cave with a grove hidden deep within it. Pinpricks of light cast the area in a low haze. There is the smell of loamy soil and copper. A step inside causes a low, almost unnoticeable at first, hum.
I like the vibe of this scenario! And not totally because I was able to add a dragon in. It’s a cool thing to start with and I think I did it justice.
Warnings for blood and fighting, though it’s not super graphic. Happy reading!
*****
Gryff leads the small party behind him into the maw of the cave. Teela, the most timid, shudders as she steps in, muttering something about walking into the dragon’s mouth.
She was half right.
They were walking into the dragon’s den.
Or, if you believed some old world theories, they were walking into a primordial dragon’s corpse. They were massive things and there were tales of their descendants making nests in their bellies. That the primordials had turned to rock when they perished, left partially preserved in the earth that bore them. Some parts of them break away, lost (the head, the tail, the legs), but the torso, the gut where they had held their fire, always remains.
If the tales are to be believed, then it made for a perfect dragon’s den.
The path is straightforward, Gryff’s torch bouncing off the walls which seem to soak up the light like something living. They walk for a few hours, moving quietly. Their footsteps try to echo down the rocky corridor. The path never dips down. They’re still on ground level.
Eventually, they come to a clearing. A grove in the middle of the cave.
Pinpricks of light shine through the ceiling of rock and moss, the stone crumbled enough to show air and the moss thin enough to allow lances of light to strike through the cover and warm the cavern. Dragons liked the dark, but they liked warmth, too, and this was a perfect and rare compromise. The air reeks of loam and cooper; bitter gold.
There’s a pile of trinkets on the far side, jewels and gold and raw ore. Rich silks are lying on the floor, some fresh and brightly dyed and others dull.
Gryff scans the area, sees nothing.
He steps into the grove.
Immediately, he hears a low, quiet hum in his ears. Actually, he feels it. Thrumming his bones like a too small tavern with too many bards at once. It’s a buzz he can’t quite hear, but is acutely aware of.
Gryff holds up a hand. He digs the torch into the ground, soft, but firm. His cohorts follow his lead.
Teela casts a quick lighting spell, a fiery orb that hovers above her. It casts enough light for her to see, for Gryff to better scan the walls of the cave. It appears empty, but it isn’t.
Something is here.
He inches a step forwards, muscles bunched with tension. There would be a surprise attack, most likely, but it wouldn’t be a surprise if he could spot the damn thing.
All he sees is the vertically ridged walls.
If he squints, he thinks he can see the impressions of ribs. Or maybe he’s looking too hard.
It didn’t matter where they were. It mattered that there was a beast they had to slay and they didn’t see it.
“Anyone have eyes on it?” he murmurs, so softly that the empty rock room doesn’t echo them.
He turns his head back and sees shaking heads. Teela doesn’t look timid right now. She’s squinting, practically glaring, at the walls of the cave.
Her eyes turn to his and even in the darkness, there’s a spark of fear in her eyes. She points her chin forwards, mouthing something he can’t read.
Gryff looks. The pile of treasure is there. He squints at it. There’s nothing else hidden behind or beside the stack that he can see. Why did Teela point him this way? It was just a pile of gold. Just…
Oh.
It was the dragon’s treasure. It’s hoard. A collection it will kill to keep.
It’s not the smartest plan, but it’s the only one he has. He makes a hand motion for the others to stay.
He inches closer. The humming gets louder as he does, a deep resonance to it that makes his hair stand on end. Danger, his body whispers, turn back.
He pulls his sword from his scabbard and lifts his shield arm, the only barrier he has. He hopes it slows any blow enough to keep him breathing. He keeps moving closer.
Anticipation hangs heavy in the air, thrumming like the hum buzzing under their feet.
Teela snuffs out her light. They don’t know which kind of dragon this is, if it’s a drake that can see in the dark or a wyrm buried under their feet. Every sound seems louder under the blanket of darkness.
He can hear his teammates breathing. Teela, soft. Juler with a shake to it. Biff with quick pants he’s trying to muffle. Dessa  trying to hold her breath.
Gryff gets closer.
The hum stops.
He freezes, adrenaline forcing him to hold his breath. He keeps his ears peeled and doesn’t turn his head to search the room.
He tightens his first inside the shield. Wills his senses to strengthen enough for him to be able to leap out of a dragon's path.
He takes one more step forward.
A slight breeze begins to drag against his skin, a movement of air that doesn’t come from wind, can’t come from wind because they are in the earth, enclosed.
The scent of sulfur pierces his nose.
The dragon roars fire just as Gryff leaps to the floor. He feels the wavering of hot air slice above his back.
Teela murmurs something (a spell?) and the battle begins.
The dragon blurs out from its position pressed against the wall to lunge at Gryff, the man who had stepped too close to the dragon’s treasure. He rolls out of the way and the talons of the beast sink into the ground a foot away from his head. It roars. The cave shakes.
He leaps to his feet and stabs at its neck. It whips its head to the side and he misses. Biff slams his blessed war axe into its tail.
It howls.
Once, it was said that that sound was the ruining of entire kingdoms. Now it is just a screech of pain.
They all spread out. Dessa yells for a distraction and Gryff provides. He bellows at the great beast before him and it turns, golden eyes glowing in the low light.
He hears the tink of metal hitting scales, the hiss of magic, the growl of fire sparking.
The dragon spits out another wave of flames that Teela deflects with a spell. Gryff glances at her, to his right, and sees the sweat beading on her brow. Biff is somewhere around the dragon’s hide and he doesn’t see Juler. Dessa is to his left.
She manages, somehow, through a move Gryff doesn’t see, to break off the tip of one of its horns. She’s the sweetest looking of the bunch, blonde haired and blue eyed and the shortest of them. She is one of the deadliest women to breathe.
They stand point around the beast, whoever is not at its head lunging for gaps between its impenetrable scales. They chip at the weak points, spending more effort in dodging then attacking.
It bleeds.
They fall into a rhythm. They grow accustomed to the light and to the exact points of weakness that make the dragon tremble.
Juler sits hunched on the side, testing a theory with Lükon rope. It is not merely made of fiber, of plant intertwined. It has barbs of FairySteel in it, and is made from the weaving of vines found miles under the surface. Fairy weapons (rare as they may be) tend to be quite fatal. Surprising, considering the race’s peaceful nature.
But FairySteel was known to be unbreakable. Even to dragons. And when woven into a rope like it has, it makes for a perfect restraint.
He has it tied to a harpoon and waits for what feels like too long before the dragon flares its wings in defense and he has a clear enough shot to shoot. The harpoon (specially made for this purpose) cuts through the gossamer with ease.
The screech is ear piercing.
It feels as if the world is falling out of existence under their feet.
Everyone takes their chance. While the dragon turns to bite the rope, to rid itself of this new lasting pain, everyone lunges forward. The rope does not break under the dragon's teeth (the barbed hooks sink into its gums before it truly bites down) and everyone lands a hit.
It recoils against the rope, the roar muffled and Gryff almost feels bad for the creature. Almost.
He slays it with a sword to the throat.
It falls still and silent.
He wipes a splatter of purple blood from his face. He waits, tense, for the creature to reawaken. It does not. He moves the few steps he needs to be in front of it.
Golden eyes are open and dull. Clouded in death.
“It is done,” Gryff says, and he doesn’t even notice the sword fall out of his grasp, the bone weariness in the words. “Koriad is safe.”
The prince is avenged. They have been successful in their task.
As proof, he takes the scrap of silk dyed Koriad emerald with the crest of the king emblazoned in silver. It is all that has survived of the second prince. Maybe his crown lies in the pile of riches, but they were not hired to find the crown. Someone else will come to pick through and take the things of value.
Gryff sighs. He slips the fabric into the hidden compartment of his shield. He feels tired. They’ve been searching for this cave for weeks. They’re all exhausted.
“Gryff,” Teela stumbles closer and catches herself with a palm to his arm. The appendage shakes. She points to the tower of treasure. “Look.”
Something about the seriousness in her voice makes him listen.
He doesn’t see anything strange. It looks like what he imagines any hoard to be.
“What?” he pants, his lungs throbbing under his skin. His heart beating against his ribs.
She releases him to walk closer. Dessa squints at something and gasps.
“Here,” she says, pointing at something oddly roundish. Something that isn’t glimmering under the little bit of sun there is.
Gryff steps closer. He gets a better look. His face pales.
“A dragon egg,” he whispers.
It’s a pale yellow that had blended into the gold and copper of stolen trinkets. He thinks he sees little cracks in the surface and he doesn’t know if the egg is beginning to hatch, or if all dragon eggs look a little cracked.
He glances at the fallen form behind him — a mother, or what was about to be one.
He feels the stab of guilt pierce his stomach. He swallows it down. “Juler,” he calls, to the craftiest of them. “Do you think we can haul this to the castle?”
Juler looks at the egg, touches it with his palm. “I think so.”
“Let’s get on our way then.” He tears his eyes from the new life that will either be slain or imprisoned. “We have a gift for the king.”
*****
I actually really like this piece and I hope you all do too. I fought with my internet for literally two hours to get it up. That’s why it’s late.
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I ended up drawing the older/adult versions of my rapr smeets! I’m still working things out, but here’s what I have so far.
Flirt:
-The third one of the clutch born
-Tallest of her siblings, but shorter than both Red and Purple by a small fraction
-Worked her way through the Irken military (With some obvious help from her status as the Tallest’s smeet + being from the first natural born clutch in a long while)
-Lost her eye, has several other injuries that are mostly kept hidden under clothing
-The Tallest’s favorite (Favoritism in them is mostly based on height)
-After sustaining her injuries, because she still wanted to be part of the military without having to be out in the field, was put into the Army Operations Manager position after the last guy was 'sadly’ found unfit for the job and was reprogrammed to work as a janitor on a faraway and hostile planet. I’m sure he’s enjoying that
Byzantium
-The fourth one of the clutch born
-Shortest of her siblings, but still receives a healthy amount of favoritism when compared to how the Tallests treat your average Irken
-Somehow came out quite intelligent despite being the related to/raised by the Tallests 
-She does have her dumb moments, or moments where she’ll lash out and get mad for something very minor and/or unimportant
-She’s a scientist that specifically works in the manufacturing/testing/designing of machinery that benefits everyday life and the military
-Was inspired at a young age by her sire’s(Red’s) designs of some artillery that he was working on. (He’s actually quite good at stuff like that thanks to his time before being Tallest)
-Is the shortest scientist on her team. It’s no secret she wouldn’t even be one had it not been for her relationship with her parents, and just what they’d probably do to get her in that position. Only the best for their smeets, after all, even if they are short
Jazzberry:
-First of the clutch born
-Was obviously more than quite the shock, even to her parents who didn’t know of the impending arrival of their smeets
-Some Irkens arient really sure she’s the Tallests’ smeet, even though there’s no other logical conclusion to come to. She’s very nice and bubbly, loves to talk to people and loves physical affection like hugging
-Has a girlfriend who she is very faithful to (Plus the gf’s taller, which Purple and Red love, in the event they somehow have a clutch, or clutches, of their own)
-Was arguably the least favorite of the clutch, or it seems that way to outsiders at least. After all, she’s never really gotten too much special attention, and other than the fact she was the first one born has nothing too special about her
-Red and Purple would still maim or kill anyone who hurt or threatened her, though, not that anyone would be dumb enough to
-Works as a navigator, and it quite good at identifying known constellations and mapping our uncharted ones they’re going through
-Was the easiest one to raise, which is why Red and Purple love her so much, even if they don’t show it publicly too often. She would just lay there and giggle, rarely crying, and more than content to just sit in one of the Tallests’ laps as they looked over reports while her other siblings ran around and caused havok
Periwinkle
-Seconds of clutch born
-Was the largest for a while, giving him a lot of attention he truly did not want from his parents, as well as other Irkens
-He was very relieved when both Smitten and Flirt grew taller than him in their later years
-Somehow ends up eating more than both Red and Purple, mostly because he stress eats
-Enjoys spending time alone, or just with his family. He freezes up and begins stuttering and mumbling when confronted, or even just talked to, by other Irkens on person, and nearly goes fully still and unresponsive when he has to deal with the Computers
-He does much better talking with people he’s not comfortable with over video
-His main job is to keep up to date records. Not only on Irken history, propaganda, etc., but also intelligence gather on enemies, whether through Invaders or otherwise
-He hates when invaders and such give him irrelevant data, as it still needs to be put down. As in, he has to take the time out of his day to sit down and write all thus ‘useless’ data
-Whenever he is seen in public, he is always with Red, Purple, Smitten, or Flirt. He literally has not been seen by himself, in PUBLIC, without one of them since he was a wee smeet. Said individuals are usually a lot more alert/confrontational when with him, keeping others away. It’s mostly instinctual because they can sense his discomfort(through body/antennae language), and immedently get the, ‘Oh no, danger, back off’, instinct. Red and Purple more so, once again due to instinct, more so parental 
-Antennae are very sensitive to vibrations, as well as other ways Irkens communicate using them, so he tends to get very stressed and overwhelmed in crowds, one of the many reasons he can’t stand being in public
Smitten:
-The fifth smeet born
-The more serious out of her siblings
-She does not get along well with Flirt, and is very cold/cordial when she has to speak with her. She also makes her antennae stand up straighter/taller when around her
-This is mostly because she was the first one of the two to get their growth spurt. She got all the attention from her parents and other Irkens, until Flirt shot up past her. Needless to say, Flirt was the one getting the most attention after that, and she wan’t so happy about it
-She gets along well with the rest of her siblings, but gets along with Byzantium the best. She annoys her the least, or so she says
-Other than Flirt, she is the only other one who has killed another person, Irken or otherwise
-Said people may or may not be related to the disappearance of the previous adviser, which the Tallests waved off as something unimportant when brought up to them, as well as some individuals who threatened her position, but also the position of her brother. (More of a, if he won’t do it, I will, sort of deal)
-People wonder when her taller sister is going to go ‘missing’ under ‘mysterious circumstances’, but that honestly wont happen until Red and Purple both pass away. After all, they won’t let the death of their daughter slip under the rug
-Is actually a good adviser. Not the best, but the body counts and over-taken planets are still high and only getting higher
-Rarely speaks to others outside of her family, but does have something going on with a special someone. Someone whose not exactly of the Irken race
All
-All of them don’t have Paks. This is because they were born naturally, and as such, attaching a Pak on them would cause them to, well, not die, but basically be in a comatose state for the rest of their life. Which would probably be extremely shortened due to the body attaching the spinal cord in an attempt to gill the foreign object/invader inside them (The computers knew this from the early days of ‘taking over’ the empire)
-All of them, because they are naturally born, are fully able to produce smeets of their own with ease. Irkens, before they required smeeteries, produced A LOT of smeets, as in 1-12 in a clutch, and could become ‘pregnant’ again soon after. Doesn’t help that all of them can both sire and incubate said smeets. Normal Irkens CAN produce clutches, obviously since they were born, but this scenario was so low the Computers thought it wouldn’t happen
-You see, in this kinda au-thing I’m working on, the Computers couldn’t just make artificial smeets without reproductive and social organs(Like the crop). The first ‘batch’, and the several ones after that through experimenting, were basically useless. They basically could not function because their bodies needed them to A) Produce certain hormones necessary for their survival, and B) Without their social organs they were incapable of forming bonds with other Irkens, and also almost incapable of properly communicating with one another, as even their antennae, which Irkens use to express most of their emotions, were even stiff and un-moving. They also didn’t produce hormones that Irkens usually give off to communicate. Needless to say, that was a mess. Soo..
-The computers kept the organs, but the Paks keep most of their levels down, preventing most clutches to be formed, or if they are, they die shortly after conception. (In fact, although the Tallests don’t know this, they’ve had several of those). This is fine, as most of the Irken population is too busy working and taking over planets that they don’t have time to procreate, meaning their already low chances of having smeets gets even smaller. However, Red and Purple don’t really have this problem, aannnd, they’re the first Tallests to rule together, adding together the fact they are mates. It just led to a lot of failing to conceive clutches until Purple carried one to a term they could just barely live outside the body, completely on accident. Without even knowing he was. Not like they have sex-ed on Irken or anything 
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iridesuhnce · 5 years
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Dusk till dawn. | Part 8 | JJH
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Pairing: Jung Jaehyun x (f) reader
Word count: 6377
Warnings: explicit language, violence, death/injury/blood mention, medical procedure/needle mention.
Summary:  After finding out that her entire family syndicate has been practically eradicated by a new, rising enemy, and that she is one of the only two survivors, Y/N is left with the responsibility and the legacy of the company hanging heavy on her shoulders. With the persuasions of an old friend, the charm of a new ally and a captivation with an enigmatic assassin, she joins the notorious group ‘U’ in a hope to restore her family’s dignity, and to squash the new opposition before they can bring the same fate to any other organisation in South Korea.
Excruciatingly unpleasant wails rise in a broken melody both inside and out of the walls of the Namwon Silver Ribbon Academy as fire alarms blare and drunken party guests panic, all desperate to escape the premises. As flocks of people rush to the exits of the building, you and Jaehyun rush further in, like two pebbles breaking the flow of a river running downstream, hunting for the site of the first explosion. Taking note of your location, you turn back to keep an eye out for Jaehyun, desperately trying not to get either of you lost in the crowd; he follows hot on your heels.
“The closest dorms to where we are are in the North Wing.” You call back to him, raising your voice significantly over the alarms “The staff will already be evacuating students, but it will be a good point to start at.”
“Got it. Are there any shortcuts to get there? It’s going to be hard cutting through the crowd.” He asks, eyes constantly darting about him, alert for threats.
“I’m already trying the shortest way I can!” You huff a little, trying to stay level-headed amongst the chaos. After a few minutes of pushing and shoving, the crowd finally thins out and you are able to communicate with Jaehyun more easily. Passing through a back hallway of tall, decorated walls and long wide windows, you catch sight of the first explosion point: a large stone hall building exterior to the main academy block which now stands derelict and ablaze, painting the indigo sky in streaks of silver smoke and amber flames. “Jae, look, over there!” You call, pointing. “That’s the combat training hall. They weren’t aiming to kill anyone with the first blow, only threaten. I doubt anyone would have been in there at this time of night.”
“That doesn’t mean there isn’t going to be a second one, Y/N. Did they reveal anything about where the next explosion might be when you saw them?”
Suddenly slowing down your steps in thought, you look down guiltily, shaking your head. You were right in the centre of the Wasps hive and you didn’t once think of checking out your surroundings. Did Seungwoo plan for that the entire time? Does he know you are with U? All you can utter is an apology to Jaehyun. “I… I can’t remember. I was too overwhelmed by seeing Seungwoo again that I didn’t really pay attention to my surroundings, I’m sorry. He was insistent on blowing up the whole academy though, so there is going to be a second explosion soon, I’m sure.”
Jaehyun grabs your shoulders and shakes you out of your gloominess. “Look, Y/N,” He asserts, his face is sharp and stern, and undeniably frustrated “you don’t have time to sulk because of your lack of observations. You’re the one who wants to save these students, so that’s what we’re going to do so that Taeyong doesn’t scold us as much as he is probably planning to.” It’s understandable that Jaehyun is mad, and that he wanted to get out as soon as possible; the mission was only to gather information anyway. So why did he agree to help you?
“Right…” you nod, running a hand through your hair and taking a deep breath in and out to calm yourself. With the alarms continuing to sound, it is difficult to think. “Okay. As far as we know, the next explosion could either be in a circuit, or triggered at random. It was all operated by a makeshift station beneath the building, so unless Seungwoo has fled, we know that the area where they are situated is probably the safest to be around, or at least will be blown up last.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to go and engage with the enemy then? And prevent them from setting off any more?” Jaehyun interjects, eyes bright and focused.
“No, that’s not the mission and there were at least fifteen men in that room. It’s possible more will arrive, so we would be severely outnumbered, and we are too far from Seoul to call in for supplies.”
“Well the mission wasn’t exactly to save all the students either-”
“Also,” you butt in once more, completing your justification, “depending on whether the explosions are circuit programmed or triggered at random, if we intervene, they might try to set them all off simultaneously. For the safety of everyone here, it’s better to let them go off one by one.”
“So you’re saying we let the entire building be blown into rubble?” Jaehyun asks, surprised by your thinking. This place means a lot to you, and Jaehyun seems to recognise that, so that fact that you are willing to let it be destroyed is surprising. To be all honest, you aren’t okay with it being blown up at all, but when your face firms with sheer sincerity and determination, your reasoning makes sense.
“Buildings can be rebuilt and brought back if damaged, Jaehyun. People can’t be brought back to life if they die. If anything, it is the people who make this institute, not the building itself, so we have to get as many people out as possible. So please, for god’s sake, Jae, help me out!”
Taking a deep breath, you turn on your heels and begin to pace quickly to the North Wing. Jaehyun lingers for a split second, momentarily astounded by your sacrifice, before continuing to follow you with a somewhat new outlook. “The enemy must have hijacked the academy’s security system. Nowhere has gone into lockdown, so although it is easier for the Wasps to get in, it is also easier for us to get the students out. Look, there!” Pointing into the near distance, you spot a stream of students, bleary eyed and delirious and astounded. Next to them, features drawn tight, you spot the familiar sharp face of the headmistress Wang Hongjoo. Your steps begin to increase in speed as you approach your old headmistress, who soon catches sight of you. Her stern face suddenly illuminates with surprise, almost disbelief, at your presence.
“Y/N? Is that you? What are you doing here?” Her voice is hoarse, probably from a long period of shouting commands to keep evacuations in order.
“Mrs Wang! This is the same as what happened to the Nightshade estate, isn’t it?” You ask instantly. There is no time for formalities right now. “I’m posing under the alias Hwang Seunghee for U, my associate and I were on the invitation list for the gala. Right now I’ve come to help evacuate the students. Which wings need assistance?”
Mrs Wang merely nods, a sincere expression on her face. “Your help is appreciated, Miss Hwang. The first explosion happened in the combat halls, so the North Wing is being prioritised. I believe the East Wing is being given the least attention, so if you could help over there, I would be incredibly grateful. You remember how the attack drills work here, right?”
“Of course I do. We’re on it. Please stay safe, Miss.”
“Likewise, Miss Hwang. And thank you, again.”
Taking a firm hold of Jaehyun’s wrist, you begin to head down more extensive hallways, past the walls decorated with the academy’s notoriously decadent pillars and portraits. This route is familiar to you. Back when you lived at the academy, you stayed in the East Wing dorms; you used to admire the paintings in the halls all the time. But not today.
“The East Wing isn’t too far from here. We need to get the girls out into the back lawns and down to the lacrosse courts. They’ll be far away enough from the building to be safe there.”
“So how do you propose we actually help evacuate them?” Jaehyun asks, keeping his step in time with yours. As if on cue, a sudden ripple shoots through the air as the sounds of gunshots ring through the academy. Your eyes grow wide with terror, which only causes Jaehyun’s look to harden.
“We keep all threats away from them, and we keep their route clear of obstructions.” You decide, lowering your voice, which is now fuelled and tremoring a little with anger. As both you and Jaehyun head back deeper into the Academy, closer to the main hall, the sounds of gunfire and screams are louder and shriller, evoking an electrical shiver to shoot down your spine. It is not long before two men dressed in swat gear pass around the corner, heavily armed. Before you can fully clock their presence, you feel a massive force pushing you hard onto the floor, followed by two sharp gunshots. Looking up from the floor, dishevelled and momentarily disorientated, you see Jaehyun stood firmly in a shooting stance; his right arm tense, extended in front of him with a handgun sat comfortably in his palm. Using his free hand, he digs around his jacket before pulling out another gun and tossing it to you.
“Sorry it’s not your beloved knife.” He utters, his eyes shifting around restlessly.
“It’s fine.” You sigh, getting back on your feet and weighing the gun about in your hand. It makes you feel a little uneasy, but it is all you have right now. “It will do. Thanks.”
“No problem. I guess they’ve infiltrated the premises for good, then.” Jaehyun continues, picking up paces once more, eyes cautious and careful as they scan the extensive hallway. You do the same, nodding and lowering your voice.
“I can still get us to the East Wing. Can you cover me?”
“Sure. No sweat.” He replies, a small smile now dancing on his lips. His smile confuses you, but you decide that now is not the time to be asking about it, so instead you continue, sticking near to objects you can duck and hide behind if the time comes. Surely enough, in a matter of minutes a new pair of Wasps emerge in the halls, yelling as soon as their eyes fall on you. “Y/N! Now!” Jaehyun yells, and you dart behind a nearby plinth, raising your arm to shoot, instantly switching the safety off and pointing your arm towards your target.
The sound of two firing bullets comes from your end, one slightly delayed after the other… but neither of the two are from your gun.
“Y/N?” Jaehyun suddenly snaps, looking at you crouched frozen on the floor, arm still extended and tense in front of you. “What the hell are you doing?” But you don’t hear him. Instead, you stay still in absolute panic. You don’t know why, but as you see the two Wasp corpses collapse on the floor, you are suddenly hit with a tidal wave of moral awareness. Eyes shut tight, a sudden ringing ripples through your head accompanied by an almost unnoticeable humming, just like the incident outside Doyoung’s control room. You couldn’t do it. The blaring of sirens sounds and the sounds of gunshots continues and you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t shoot them. They even had masks on, and yet you still couldn’t shoot them. Too much is happening, and too much pressure builds on you that you know you cannot bring yourself to kill a man, yet still… What sort of mafia daughter is unable to shoot?
Jaehyun crouches to your level, again grabbing your shoulders and looking straight into your wide, stunned eyes. “Y/N, please don’t tell me… you’ve never shot a man before?”
Slowly, your head shakes as your dazed eyes fix on the blurry the distance beyond Jaehyun. “N-never…” His eyes darken and he takes the gun out of your hand. When he sees you remain crouched on the floor, he bites his cheek, trying not to soften up and ask if you are okay. There’s no other option, you need to be okay right now.
“That’s gonna change. Maybe not tonight, but some time soon. Snap the hell out of it and get up.” He bites frustratedly, and you don’t blame him. Easy for an assassin like you to say. You rub your temples and slowly rise once more, trying to ignore the cacophony of noises messing with your head. “We don’t have time for you to freeze up again, Y/N. Where the hell are these dorms?”
Arriving at the ground floor of the East Wing, you find swarms of students all hurrying to the fire escapes in a desperate attempt to leave the building. Moments after your arrival, another quaking sensation shakes the entire building as a second explosion occurs. A rise of screams and panic erupts from the students, all shaking in their night clothes. You can see several teachers directing them out of the building, but even they are struggling to keep things in order. Turning to Jaehyun, you snatch a gun out of his hand. “That sounded like it came from the West Wing. That gives us a few minutes here. Knock on all the doors on this floor and make sure everyone is out, I’ll do the same upstairs on the second floor. Once we’re done, we rendezvous on the first floor and do the same thing. Okay?”
“Got it, I’ll see you soon.” He nods, no longer looking as frustrated as he was beforehand. If anything, he is smiling again. Why?
“You’d better.” You reply, now smiling a little yourself before scuttering up the nearby stairs to the second floor. To your old floor. To your old room.
Arriving on the second floor, it is practically empty, with most doors left hanging wide open against the blank magnolia painted walls. Gun in hand, you pace down the dorm halls, scanning every room and knocking on every closed door, calling out for anyone still present. It isn’t long before you hear a response and a frantic banging at one room down the back end of the hall. Two young voices ripple in waves of panic from behind the stiff wood. “Help! Help, the door is stuck! We’re stuck!” The high-pitched cries push your feet to run faster to the door. Trying the handle a few times, you realise that the lock is wedged completely. It would be impossible to kick down the door in your heels, so instead you bang on it, shouting to the people inside.
“Hey! I’m going to get you out, okay? I’m going to shoot at several points of the door okay so everyone inside needs to stand way back! In the bathroom if you can!”
There’s a scuffling, followed by “It’s clear, miss!”
Taking a few steps back, you knock down a decorative table and brace yourself behind it, aiming your gun at the hinges of the door and effortlessly shooting at them to knock them out of the door frame. The power of the gun makes your arm feel a little jelly-like, and the sensation is something you haven’t felt in a long time. Taking one last shot at the lock, the whole door falls limp and out of place, and taking off one of your heels, you stand up to kick it down. When the exit is finally clear, two girls emerge from the room, looking barely older than twelve. They probably haven’t been at the academy for too long, poor souls.
“Are you alright? Is anyone hurt?” You ask, slipping your shoe back on. The girls look at each other, slightly stunned. The shorter of the two looks back up at you with shining, golden eyes and a half-relieved expression.
“We’re okay, miss. Thank you so much for saving us, we tried to get the lock to open but, but…” She utters frantically, and it makes you laugh a little.
“You’re welcome,” you respond, a small smile tilting the corner of your lips “you both need to get to the lacrosse courts at the back of the grounds, just follow everyone downstairs, okay?”
“Yes, miss!” They nod quickly as you usher the two to the staircase. When you stop at the first floor entrance, they turn and look at you confusedly. “You coming, miss?” The taller one asks, and you shake your head.
“I need to meet someone on first floor. I’ll be out soon though. Get to the lacrosse courts!” You wave your hands as if to shoo them away, the alarms in the stairwell now blaring loudly in your ear. Rubbing your temples once more, you try to push the sound out of your head. You can’t let it distract you right now. As you watch the two girls exchange a glance, nod to each other, then hurry down the stairs, you soon spot Jaehyun running past them on his way up the stairs. Leaning over the bannisters, you wave your free hand. “Jae! Here! Is everything good?”
“Ground floor is clear!” He calls back, approaching you promptly. “Were those two with you?”
“The lock in their room was jammed. I shot it open.”
“So you can shoot doors but not people?” He raises an eyebrow, voice a little snarky. The insult takes you by surprise, but you can’t be bothered to respond, instead choosing to head towards the first floor rooms. These are also all clear, but by the time you reach the large window at the back of the corridor, you are hit by a new wave of worry. In the horizon, streams of students hurry in lines like ants heading towards their nest, but in the shimmering moonlight, new threatening presences are illuminated, guns shining and ready to fire.
“Jae, there’s more. We need to get outside.” You utter, panic rising within you once more as you turn back to him. He nods, looking around him, then yanking a nearby fire extinguisher from the wall.
“I can carry about three of these, you get some too, Y/N. If we take them outside and hurl them far enough directly at the enemy, they should shoot at the extinguishers, which will consequently explode.”
“Thus making a smokescreen to hide the students, right? I like it.” You smile, nodding and changing your objective to looking for nearby extinguishers.
“And also, hopefully injuring the shooters with any shrapnel. Follow me.” Jaehyun adds. His focus on killing the enemy makes you a little uneasy, but you dismiss the feeling. Now is not the time to ponder on these things.
“…Right.”
Flying down the stairs as quickly as you both can, you and Jaehyun rip extinguishers from the wall, squeezing out of the building with the fleeing girls. When you are outside, your vision is hindered by the night, nevertheless you follow Jaehyun, distancing yourself from the students. Raining gunfire suddenly breaks out, and you and Jaehyun hurl the heavy extinguishers towards the shooters. One of the ones thrown by you hits a man, knocking him off his feet and throwing him off guard. Without really thinking, you aim your gun towards the can and shoot, bursting it open and creating a large, white cloud which shrouds the yells of those hit by loose scraps of metal from the explosion. You bite your lip and hope that they are only injured. Soon enough, the gunfire reduces and a new wall of white cloud forms a temporary protection for those evacuating. In your peripheral vision, there are a few raised mounds on the floor, and suddenly your eyes well up in horror. You can barely mourn before a sudden, white hot pain bursts in your right shoulder, and you crumple down to the ground with a strangled cry. Pressing your hand onto the wound, an angered “Shit!” escapes your lips as another ripple of pain floods your body. You can barely move your right arm without a new excruciating sensation arising. When you draw your hand away from the site of pain, your fingers are black with blood, glittering in the moonlight.
“Y/N!” Jaehyun yells, audibly concerned. But you don’t hear him. Instead, you are deafened with anger, grasping your gun with your left hand and twisting into an uncomfortable position, shooting carelessly in the direction of the Wasps.
“GO AWAY, YOU BASTARDS! THOSE GIRLS ARE INNOCENT, LEAVE THEM ALONE! LEAVE THEM THE FUCK ALONE!”
Each call is strangled with a new, fresh sob, as you fire into the night. You can barely see, vision dyed entirely red with rage. The buzzing sound floods your head once more, and it is not long before stars frame your vision. Beginning to sway, you eventually collapse onto the floor with a painful thud. The last you see is Jaehyun frantically falling by your side, and the sky suddenly being painted orange as a third explosion occurs.
“Y/N! Y/N! Stay with me- shit, shit! Y/N!”
“I just… wanted… to help…”
And then, black.
A stillness.
Heavy eyelids flutter open to reveal a large, spacious room, tinted amber by lamplight which forces your sore eyes to squint. Above you, in the centre of it all, hovers the broad silhouette of a man. Dirty white shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and hands hidden beneath plastic gloves, his sharp eyes study you, flickering between your face and your right shoulder. “Don’t move. I’m halfway through treating this.” Jaehyun sighs, his voice coarse. As you look up, you examine his face. His eyes are dark and sleepless, but still glow a little. His whole being looks drained, yet his features are drawn tensely as he continues to look over your wound. In the dark shadow of his face, everything returns to you. The gala. Seeing Seungwoo alive. The explosions. The cries of the students. The limp bodies of students and soldiers on the soft, damp lawns. The fire extinguisher smokescreen. Being shot in the shoulder. Your rage-fuelled shooting… You probably killed at least one man. And still, Jaehyun had to look after you and bring you back. How pathetic of you. As each memory stacks and illustrates the events of the past few hours, hot tears prickle at the corners of your eyes and your face begins to contort and crumple. It’s difficult to suppress your frustration. Jaehyun stops what he is doing and looks back at your face. “Cry, Y/N. Don’t stop yourself because I’m here. Crying is what makes you human.” Taking a deep breath, and closing your eyes, you sigh.
“This… was all my fault, wasn’t it?”
“Hmm?” Jaehyun raises an eyebrow, almost humoured by your statement. “The explosions? No, they were premeditated. You saw that they had things set up. You getting shot in the shoulder? Yes, that was your fault. Taeyong is going to be pissed off that you’re out of action again, and that you almost got yourself killed.”
“I’m sorry…” You mumble, letting your chest quake with uneven breathing as the sobs break their way loose. “I… I thought I could save them.” Jaehyun’s face remains straight, with his bottom lip tucked in between his teeth. You close your eyes, barely wanting to see him. You screwed up, Y/N. Now everyone at U will just see you as a hinderance. After a moment of gross sobbing, Jaehyun releases a deep sigh.
“Look, Y/N. I’m not going to sugar-coat anything. You fucked up. You fucked up by choosing to stay and not run as soon as the explosions went off. You thought with your heart and that’s a luxury which people like us in this industry can’t afford.” People like us, huh? “You diverted from the initial mission, and you got shot. But.”
“But?” you ask in between tremoring breaths. Something dry and coarse presses onto your cheeks, just below your eyes. Tentatively opening them, you see Jaehyun wiping away your tears with a tissue.
“But,” he continues “you showed undying loyalty to what you love. That academy has been more of a home to you than your own family. And you showed that by choosing the academy, and even U, over Seungwoo, your own brother. You also proved yourself to be quite the strategist, if I say so myself. And you were willing to sacrifice the academy building to save the people.”
Taking his words into account, you begin to try and control your breathing, cutting off the tears and calming yourself down. “It was still the wrong decision.”
“In many ways,” Jaehyun shrugs, looking away from you, “I don’t think it was.”
“How so?” You inquire, eyes a little wider in surprise. Jaehyun is quiet for a moment, then reaches your face, cupping your cheek in his hand for a mere second to wipe a stray tear away with his thumb, before dropping it. His eyes find yours, softer than before.
“People like us, in the mafia… in the big wide world, we are the villains. We are the criminals; the bad guys. But some don’t quite fit into the pattern. Some are misfortunate enough to be fated with this sort of lifestyle. People like you. You look for the good, Y/N. You aren’t selfish. If we had fled, it would have been the selfish thing to do, since it would be for our own protection. But we stayed, because you wanted to help the evacuation, despite it going against orders. You were thinking about the safety of others before yourself. Hell, you even managed to help those two girls escape. The third explosion, the one that went off as you went out cold, that was in the East Wing. If you hadn’t managed to get those girls out, they would be dead. You were a hero, Y/N-”
“Agh, cut the cliché.” You laugh, cheeks flooded red. Directing your eyes away from Jaehyun, you blush. “It was still stupid though, wasn’t it?”
“Just a little bit.”
“Screw you.” You laugh, seeing his face soften up into a smile of its own. You don’t enjoy the moment for too long though, as a sharp sting shoots up your arm, making you wince. A silence fills the air between you, and you listen to your own soft breaths. It’s faint, but in the distance, you can hear the gentle patter of rainfall. “Jaehyun, what time is it?”
“Probably some time around four am.” He utters, raising his wrist and reading the hands of his golden watch. “Yeah, ten past four in the morning. You were only out for an hour or so. I managed to hijack a car from the academy and get us out of there so I could start to treat your wound. I haven’t had much success with it though, that bullet really got wedged.”
The thought of a small chunk of metal being stuck in your shoulder makes you squirm, but still you are grateful for Jaehyun looking after you. “Thank you. I’m sorry for being such an inconvenient vigilante.” That evokes a laugh from him.
“Inconvenient vigilante, huh? We should make that your codename.” He picks up a small paper pouch from his side, rips it open, and pulls out an antiseptic wipe. “This might sting, sorry.” He wipes it across your wound, and you grit your teeth.
“God… Just a little bit.” You laugh airily, repeating his words. He raises an eyebrow with a smirk. “Hey, Jaehyun, do I have a codename?”
“Yeah.”
“What is it?”
“Flora.”
“Oh? Like flower? Because nightshade is a flower?”
“Precisely.”
The name makes you smile. It’s cute and unsuspicious. Maybe not an ideal name for someone associated with the mafia, but it suits you. Your eyes drift back onto Jaehyun, who now sits with a needle in his hand. “This is only a small shot of morphine. Should help you feel less pain though.”
“Okay.”
Taking your forearm in his hand, Jaehyun firmly grips it, turning it over to look for a vein. Keeping your eyes away from the needle, there’s a small scratch, followed by an odd, slight stinging sensation, before he withdraws it and places a plaster over the puncture hole. After a few moments, everything feels a little lighter, slower, better. He lifts your arm carefully, and begins to wrap a bandage around it, a procedure which you watch in a slight daze. It is only now when you first see the wound – it’s clean, almost star-shaped; a black hole swirling unpleasantly in the paler than usual cosmos of your skin, soon concealed by gauze. When it is sealed, Jaehyun sits you up, and you see the puddles of blood on the floor, next to the crimson stained surgical equipment deposited by your leg. There must have been an emergency medical kit somewhere in the building. “There we go,” Jaehyun smiles, his hand falling on top of yours and giving it a light squeeze “all better, at least for now.” Gazing at his face, you notice a faint scar from the cut on his cheek he made in the knife room and raise one of your fingers to trace it tenderly.
“Hey… you did that in The Cube, didn’t you? Because of me?”
For the first time possibly ever, you catch Jaehyun’s cheeks flourish the pink hues of dusk, while his ears glow like the rising sun at dawn. By morphine-induced instinct, you shuffle closer to him a little, cupping his jaw with your left hand and placing the softest kiss over the healed wound. Jaehyun’s head drops, hiding his look. The alien warmth blooming in his chest is unfamiliar; he doesn’t know how to handle it. All he can do is look away.
“Hey, Y/N, let’s get you into your pyjamas, alright?” He states bashfully, and you nod as a flood of drowsiness washes over you. “Stay here, I’ll bring your stuff round.”
Twenty minutes later, you have managed to wash off your makeup, mostly managing to do it without Jaehyun’s help. When it comes to getting changed, you realise that you have no other option but to ask for a hand, with your right arm being out of use.
“Um, Jaehyun? Please could you unzip my dress?” You ask slightly timidly. After a hesitant moment, he nods, almost flustered, and offers you his hand to help you stand.
“Oh, uh, of course. Spin around.” He stutters a little. Seeing him like this is endearing, and it makes you smile. Spinning around, you use your good hand to pull your hair over your shoulder, making sure it doesn’t get caught in the dress. As your wounded arms swing a little, it does not hurt as much and instead only stings slightly, and you know that the morphine is beginning to kick in. Jaehyun pulls off the plastic medical gloves and lets his hands tentatively hover over the back zip, before taking hold of the small metal tab and deftly dragging it down. His warm fingers brush over the skin of your back as the black garment eventually falls to your feet, leaving you exposed in nothing but your underwear. As you bring up your left arm to cover your chest, Jaehyun catches sight of the vine of ink decorating your side, and as you remain facing away from him you hear a small gasp escape from his lips. “You have a tattoo?” He asks with genuine interest.
“Had to do something to keep me occupied while I was out of action, didn’t I?” You laugh, cheeks rosy. “If you pass me my pyjamas, I’ll let you have a better look in a moment.”
“Oh! Of course…” He utters, passing you your night clothes. You need some help getting your right arm in the sleeve of the silky blue shirt, but aside from that you manage to slip it on fairly easily, as well as the matching shorts. When you are dressed again, you sit back down on the thin mattress laid in the centre of Jaehyun’s room, eyes gradually growing more tired. With a sleepy smile you lift up the shirt over your left side, revealing the delicate vines and flowers marked into your skin. Jaehyun sits by your side, fingers hovering over the skin in admiration. “It’s beautiful… did Soljin do this?”
“Yeah, she did. It hurt a lot though, poor Chunhua probably lost all the circulation in her fingers from me holding her hand so much.” You laugh softly, remembering how you laughed through the stinging as Chunhua mimicked and mocked your pained expressions. Hearing you laugh makes Jaehyun smile, a small smirk shaping the corner of his lips.
“Do you want to see mine?”
“You have a tattoo?”
Without needing any more of a response, Jaehyun unbuttons his shirt from the top down, slipping it off of his shoulders when they are all undone. His body is nothing less than you expected it to be; toned, slender and muscular with his warm skin glowing in the soft light of the room. There are several silver scars dotted around his torso from past fallouts and fights; one on his right abdomen looks recently healed, and you soon remember how he was hurt at the street race. He must have been stabbed. You would look away from him out of modesty if it wasn’t for the giant rose inked right onto the left side of his chest. The flower head itself blooms right over his heart, just like Kun’s tattoo, although this tattoo is much grander, flourishing over the whole of Jaehyun’s left pectoral muscle in leaves, stalks and thorns. The arrangement of all the stalks and thorns makes it look almost as if his heart is being caged by the very flower which represents U. “Woah…” You gasp, leaning in closer to have a better look. “It’s incredible…”
“Every man – or woman – who pledges allegiance to U is required to have the Rose tattooed right over their heart. It’s a gesture of bravery and loyalty, and reminds them that once you join, you can never turn back. You can never forget the world of the U syndicate; when you become part of it, it becomes part of you.” Jaehyun explains, leaning back, arms behind him to keep him propped upright. You nod as he speaks, listening intently until his matter-of-fact expression breaks into a laugh. “Anyhow,” he sighs, sitting upright once more “seems like that morphine is working, you look like you’re about to pass out. You can sleep in here, if you want. Here.” He pats the mattress, gesturing for you to lay down. Obediently, you do so as he pulls the bedcovers over you. As Jaehyun is about to stand up, you grab his wrist, to which he raises an eyebrow. “You okay?”
“Can you stay? … Please?” You ask, almost inaudibly, suddenly feeling very small without his company. Jaehyun bites his lip, ears tinged red once more.
“Would you feel safer if I stayed here with you?” He asks, running a hand through his golden hair. In response, you nod slowly with a long yawn. He sighs. Chuckles softly. “Okay then.” And with that, Jung Jaehyun picks up the medical equipment by the bed, hides it in a nearby cupboard, switches off all the lights in the room, then returns to the makeshift bed. He lifts the duvet, rolling beneath it to lay by your side, his front facing yours as you lie on your left, he on his right.
The darkness of the sky makes it a little easier to bare the fact that you are both inches apart, and you know that you will struggle to fall asleep. Closing your eyes with a gentle sigh, you utter “I swear I will take them down. The Wasps. And Seungwoo with them. I sweat I will destroy them.”
There’s a pause, and despite the dark you can feel Jaehyun’s amused smile once more. “You intrigue me, Y/N.”
“I’m not that intriguing.”
“It almost sounds weird hearing you say that, to be honest. You don’t exactly strike me as threatening.”
“What?” you retort, slightly offended but mostly confused.
“Do you remember your first night at U? When you slipped on your balcony?”
“Oh god… yeah. What about it?” an embarrassed warmth flushes into your cheeks, and you thank the dark cover of night that Jaehyun cannot see it. He chuckles quietly, his hand shyly finding your beneath the sheets. You let him hold it, and he runs his thumb over your knuckles. The gesture is soothing enough to send you to sleep on the spot.
“Although it was dumb, it made my day. I don't know how, but you manage to inject the brightest energy into anything. I like that a lot."
“I try my best. It’s the only thing which keeps me going.”
Jaehyun moves the tiniest fraction closer to you, and in that moment you want to close the space between you… But you can’t let yourself do that. As soon as you get attached to someone, you grow weak. Both you and Jaehyun seem to mutually understand that. So instead, he merely drapes his arm around your waist, careful of your injured shoulder, and pulls you closer into him. His skin smells sun-baked and slightly sweaty - a little clinical, even - but there’s an odd pleasance about it. The last, musky undertones of cologne cling in wisps, and only when you are pressed right against his chest, palm on the blooming rose tattoo of his chest, are you able to pick them up. It makes you wonder if you yourself smell okay. Probably slightly metallic, definitely sterile around the shoulder, from the cocktail of blood and metal beneath your skin.
As you begin to feel the heavy weight of sleep lull you into unconsciousness once more, Jaehyun speaks up one more time.
“Hey, Y/N, you kept on calling me Jae earlier, didn't you?”
You hadn’t even realised. It must have been out of instinct; out of comfort around the dark and mysterious assassin whom you still know barely anything about. Silently, you nod slowly.
“Call me that from now on. I like it.”
And with a bashfully pink face, you nod a final time, embracing the warmth of his firm hold. You may not get this opportunity again. After today, you may never see each other again, or talk again. But still, regardless, you will call him ‘Jae.’ The request shows that even if the rest of U end up not trusting you, you will still have Jaehyun. So, as you let the blanket of sleep wrap itself around you, you simply respond with a smile:
“Okay.”
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